The Novice

let him see that you’re frightened of him. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she turned to face the visitor and bowed.

“Excuse me, High Lord.”

He didn’t reply.

“Sonea.” Rothen’s voice was low and tense. “Come here.”

She looked at Rothen and felt her stomach twist. His face was pale, almost sickly. He beckoned, and his hand shook slightly. Disturbed by these signs of fear, she hurried to his side.

Rothen’s voice was surprisingly calm as he addressed the High Lord. “Sonea is here, as you requested, High Lord. How may we assist you?”

Akkarin fixed Rothen with a stare that would have turned her to ice.

“I am here to find the source of a certain... rumor. A rumor I drew from the Administrator concerning you and your novice.”

Rothen nodded. He seemed to choose his next words with great care.

“I thought that rumor about us had passed. Nobody appeared to give it credence and—”

The dark eyes flashed. “Not that rumor. I am referring to a rumor about my nocturnal activities. A rumor that must be stopped.”

A hand seemed to close on Sonea’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Rothen was frowning and shaking his head.

“You are mistaken, High Lord. I know nothing of your—”

“Do not lie to me, Rothen.” Akkarin’s eyes narrowed. “I would not have come here if I was not certain of it.” He took a step toward them. “I have just read it from Lorlen’s mind.”

All color drained from Rothen’s face. He stared at Akkarin in silence. If Akkarin read Lorlen’s mind, she thought, he knows everything! She felt her knees weaken, and, afraid she would sink to the floor, gripped the window sill behind her.

The High Lord smiled thinly. “I saw much that impressed me: how Sonea visited the Guild while she was still a renegade, what she witnessed that night, how Lorlen discovered this while truth-reading her during the guardianship Hearing, and that he ordered you both to keep the discovery a secret so that he could work out how he could possibly enforce the Guild’s law. A sensible decision. And fortunate for you all.”

Rothen straightened and raised his head to face Akkarin again. “We have not spoken a word of it to anyone.”

“So you say.” The High Lord’s voice softened, but lost none of its chill. “I would know that for certain.”

Sonea heard Rothen’s sharp intake of breath. The two magicians stared at each other.

“And if I refuse?”

“I will take whatever measures you force me to take, Rothen. You cannot prevent me reading your mind.”

Rothen looked away. Abruptly, Sonea recalled Cery’s description of Akkarin’s mind-reading. Cery had told her that, when Akkarin had discovered him imprisoned in a room under the University by Fergun, he had allowed the High Lord to read his mind to confirm the truth. It had been an easy thing, completely unlike Rothen’s mind-sharing or Lorlen’s truth-read, and she had concluded that the legend about Akkarin being able to read minds, whether they be willing or not, must have some truth in it.

Stiffly, as though his bones were those of a man twenty years older, Rothen moved toward the High Lord. Sonea stared at him, unable to believe he would give in so easily.

“Rothen...”

“It’s all right, Sonea.” Rothen’s voice was strained. “Stay where you are.”

Closing the distance between himself and her guardian in a few strides, Akkarin placed his hands against the sides of Rothen’s head. He closed his eyes and his face smoothed into an unexpectedly peaceful expression.

Rothen drew in a sharp breath and swayed. The hands at his sides clenched, then opened again. Sonea took a step forward and stopped. She dared not interfere. What if it caused Akkarin to harm Rothen? Frustrated, frightened, she clenched her fists until she felt her nails bite into her palms.

The two magicians remained still and silent for an unbearably long time. Then, without warning, Akkarin drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He regarded the man standing before him for a moment, then drew back his hands and stepped away.

Sonea watched anxiously as Rothen took a long, ragged breath and swayed a little. Akkarin crossed his arms, watching the old magician. Sonea cautiously stepped forward and took Rothen’s arm.

“I’m fine,” he said wearily. “I’m all right.” He rubbed his temples and grimaced, then squeezed one of her hands to reassure her.

“Now, Sonea.”

A shock of cold terror rushed through her body. She felt Rothen’s hands tighten their grip.

“No!” Rothen protested hoarsely. He put an arm protectively around her shoulders. “You know everything now. Leave her be.”

“I cannot.”

“But you’ve seen everything,” Rothen protested. “She’s only a—”

“A child?” Akkarin’s eyebrows rose. “A girl? Come now, Rothen. You know this will not harm her.”

Rothen swallowed hard, then slowly turned to her. He looked into her eyes. “He knows everything, Sonea. There is nothing to hide from him. Let him confirm it for himself if he must. It will not hurt.”

His eyes, though rimmed with moisture, were steady. Sonea felt him squeeze her hands, then release them. He stepped away. A terrible feeling of betrayal rose.

—Trust me. We must cooperate. It is all we can do for now.

She heard Akkarin’s footfall behind her. Her heart raced as she turned to face him. The black robes rustled softly as the High Lord moved forward. She backed away and felt Rothen’s hands on her shoulders.

Akkarin frowned as he reached toward her. Cool fingers brushed her face and she flinched. Then his palms pressed firmly against her temples.

A presence touched her mind, but it held no personality. She sensed no thoughts or feelings. Perhaps he didn’t have emotions. The thought wasn’t comforting.

Then an image flashed into her mind. She started, realizing she had been waiting for him to encounter the barriers in her mind. Somehow he had passed them. Checking, she saw that her defenses were intact, but his presence was not tangible enough to meet their resistance.

The same image kept flashing into her mind. It was of the underground room beneath his residence, seen from outside the door. A memory rose of the scene she had witnessed the night she had spied upon him.

Something took hold of that memory and began to sort through the details. Sonea remembered how Lorlen had manipulated her memories, and how she had been able to hide them by willing them out of her thoughts. Perhaps she could do that now. She tried to smother the memory, but the mind-read continued without a pause. Her efforts made no difference, she realized, because Akkarin was in control of the memory, whereas Lorlen had been only guiding and encouraging.

The discovery sent panic through her. In desperation, she tried to drown the memory with other thoughts and images.

Stop this.

An undertone of anger accompanied the words. Sonea paused, feeling a thrill of triumph as she understood she had found a way to hamper him. Her fear hardened into determination. She drew up lessons, lists of facts, images of work she had done. She bombarded him with pictures from text books and nonsense poems that she had discovered in the library. She threw memories of the slum, irrelevant, ordinary bits of her old life.

A mental image of a storm appeared - a funnel of images that kept him trapped at its core. She did not know if the picture was real, or something her mind had created...

Pain! Knives ripping through her skull. A cry reached her ears. Realizing that she had made it, she opened her eyes and her consciousness swayed between the outer and the inner world. Hands tightened on her shoulders. A voice came from above.

“Stop fighting me,” it commanded.

Hands pressed hard against her temples. She snapped back into the domain of her mind. Disoriented and shocked by the pain, she tried to regain some sense of balance. The presence returned to the task of digging up the