The room fell silent. All faces turned toward Sonea. Seeing the disbelief on their faces, she felt a wry amusement. How ironic that her own classmates should be the last to find out. All but one, she amended. Regin was lounging on a table, grinning with satisfaction at the effect his news had on the class.
“Take your seat, please, Regin,” Elben growled.
Regin slid off the table and settled into his chair. Moving to her place, Sonea lifted her box onto her desk. As she did her sleeve fell free, and she heard a small gasp nearby. Glancing up, she saw that Narron was staring at the incal.
“Sonea,” Elben said. “I have saved a place for you at the front.”
She looked up and realized that there was, indeed, a seat free in the front row of the class. Poril’s seat. She turned and saw that her old friend was sitting at the back of the room. He flushed and evaded her eyes.
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, turning back. “That was generous of you, but I would prefer to stay here.”
The magician’s eyes narrowed. He looked as if he might argue, but he glanced at the class and he seemed to think better of it.
“Very well.” He lowered himself into his seat and placed a hand on a stack of paper on the desk. “Today you will be tested on your knowledge of Alchemy,” he told the class. “I will give you a list of questions to answer now, and later I will be giving you exercises to complete. After the midbreak you will be given practical tests.”
As he passed sheets of paper out to the class, Sonea felt an old, almost forgotten anxiety return. The tests. She let her eyes skim across the questions, and sighed with relief. Despite the disdain of the teachers, despite the long hours of study, despite all Regin’s attempts to hamper her, she had managed to absorb the lessons. Feeling better, she took a pen out of her box and began to write.
Hours later, when the gong tolled to mark the end of the test, the class let out a unified sigh of relief.
“That will be all,” Elben finished. “You may go.”
As one the novices rose and bowed to the teacher. Sonea caught several glances in her direction as they filed out of the room. Remembering why, she felt her stomach turn over with dread.
“Wait, Sonea,” Elben said as she passed his desk. “I would like to speak with you.”
He waited until the room was empty before speaking. “After midbreak,” he told her, “I would like you to take the place I have arranged for you.”
Sonea swallowed. Was this what Jerrik had meant when he said the teachers would give her preferential treatment? Should she take advantage of it, as he had suggested?
But what was to be gained by moving to the front of the classroom? Only the knowledge that Poril had lost even more status in the class because of her. She shook her head.
“I prefer the seat by the window.”
Elben frowned. “It would be more appropriate if you sat at the front of the class now.”
Appropriate? She felt a flare of anger. This was not about helping her learn, this was about being seen to favor the High Lord’s novice. He probably expected her to report every little favor to Akkarin. She smothered a bitter laugh. She would be saying as little to her new guardian as possible.
If she had learned anything from the last six months, it was to avoid upsetting the petty social order of the classroom. Taking Poril’s place would mean more than just a change of seats. The novices already disliked her; she didn’t need to give them more reason to. She looked at Elben, standing with his arms crossed, and felt her anger harden into defiance.
“I’ll stay in my usual place,” she told him.
Elben’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed to see something in her gaze that made him pause. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“It is easier to see and hear at the front,” he pointed out.
“I’m not deaf, Lord Elben, or short-sighted.”
His jaw clenched. “Sonea,” he moved closer and spoke quietly, “if you will not take the front seat it might be seen as... neglectful of me as your teacher...”
“Perhaps I should tell Akkarin that you would not let me sit where I wished.”
His eyes widened. “You wouldn’t bother him over something so small...”
She smiled. “I doubt he would be interested in my seating arrangements at all.”
He regarded her silently, then nodded. “Very well. You may sit where you wish. Go.”
As she stepped out into the corridor she realized that her heart was racing. What had she done? Novices
Then she realized that the corridor was unusually quiet. Looking up, she saw that novices of all years were silently watching her. All satisfaction over her conversation with Elben evaporated. Swallowing hard, she started toward the stairs.
“That’s her,” whispered a voice to her right.
“Yesterday,” someone muttered. “...no warning at all.”
“...High Lord...”
“Why
“...not right.”
“...should have been...”
“...insult to the Houses.”
She snorted softly.
“Make way for the High Lord’s favorite!”
Her stomach turned as she recognized the voice. Regin stepped out to block her path.
“Great one!” he cried loudly. “Might I ask a tiny, infinitesimally small favor of one so admired and influential?”
Sonea regarded him warily. “What do you want, Regin?”
“Would you... if it would not be a great offense to your high position, that is,” he smiled cloyingly, “would you mend my shoes tonight? You see, I know you are skilled in such great and worthy tasks and, well, if I am to have my shoes mended it should be done by the best shoe-mender in the sl-uh-Guild, wouldn’t you say?”
Sonea shook her head. “Is that all you could come up with, Regin?” She stepped around him and continued down the corridor. Footsteps pursued her.
“Oh, but Sonea - I mean - Oh, Great One. I would be so hon—”
His voice stopped abruptly. Frowning, she resisted the temptation to glance behind.
“She is the High Lord’s novice,” someone muttered. “Are you stupid? Leave her alone.”
Recognizing Kano’s voice, Sonea caught her breath in surprise. Was this what Jerrik had meant when he had said Akkarin had improved her situation? Reaching the stairs, she descended into the Entrance Hall, stepped out of the doors and started toward the Magicians’ Quarters.
Then she stopped.
Where was she going? Rothen’s rooms? Standing still, she tried to gather her thoughts.
Hunger decided her. She would go to the Foodhall. And after the afternoon’s tests? The library. If she stayed there until it closed, she could avoid returning to the High Lord’s Residence until late. With luck Akkarin would have retired for the night, and she could reach her room without encountering him. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the inevitable stares and whispers, and walked back into the University.
Lorlen’s rooms were on the ground floor of the Magicians’ Quarters. He spent little time in them, rising early and returning long after the rest of the Guild had retired. From day to day he noticed little more in the rooms than the bed and his clothing cupboard.
But in the last day he had rediscovered much about his private space. There were ornaments and objects on the bookshelves that he had forgotten he owned. These mementos of the past, of family and achievements, brought only guilt and pain. They reminded him of people he loved and respected. People he had failed.
Closing his eyes, Lorlen sighed. Osen would not be concerned yet. Only a day and a half had passed. Not long enough for his assistant to panic at the growing list of unattended work. And Osen had been trying for years to persuade Lorlen to take a break from his duties.
