Turning, she stared at the painting hanging behind the cabinet.
A neat square hole had been cut into the wall. Peering inside, she could see a corresponding square of light illuminating a stone wall beyond, an arm’s length away.
Hastily, she let the painting fall again. Her heart was pounding now. This was no coincidence. Whoever had made that hole had created it to reach the cabinet.
It might have been done centuries ago. Or it might have been made recently. Looking down at the map again, she knew she could not memorize it, and now that she knew that someone might return to the cabinet and notice it missing, she dared not take it with her. But she couldn’t leave empty-handed. An opportunity to get into the cabinet might not come again.
Running to Lord Jullen’s desk she found a thin sheet of paper, a pen and his inkwell. Laying the paper over the map, she began tracing as quickly as she could. Her mouth was dry as she worked, her breathing unsteady. It seemed to take much too long, but finally she was done. Folding the tracing up, she put it in a pocket in her robe.
Only then did she hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the library. Cursing softly, she hastily cleaned Jullen’s pen and put it away. Running to the storeroom, she replaced the map in the book and slid it back on the shelf. As she pressed the square of wood back into place she heard the footsteps pause at the library door. Dancing away from the wall, she focused her mind on the cabinet.
The library door clicked shut.
“Sonea?”
Realizing she was shaking, Sonea decided she didn’t trust her voice.
“Mmm?” she replied.
Tya appeared in the storeroom doorway. “Are you done?”
Nodding, Sonea picked up the empty boxes.
“I’m sorry I took so long.” Tya frowned. “You look a bit... unsettled.”
“It’s a bit spooky in here,” Sonea admitted. “But I’m fine.”
Tya smiled. “Yes, it can be. But, thanks to you, it’s all done and we can finally get some sleep.”
As Sonea followed Tya out of the library, she placed a hand over the pocket where the map was hidden, and smiled.
29
A Revelation
Sonea took a deep breath as she entered Yikmo’s practice room. Keeping her eyes lowered, she stopped just inside the door.
“My lord,” she began. “I apologize for disobeying you the other night. You helped me and I was rude.”
Yikmo was silent for a moment, then he chuckled. “You don’t have to apologize for that, Sonea.”
Looking up, she was relieved to see that he was smiling. He pointed to a seat and she obediently sat down.
“You have to understand that this is what I do,” he told her. “I take novices who are having difficulties with Warrior Skills training and find out why. In all cases but yours, however, the novices I have taught have sought my help willingly. When they realize that I am going to raise personal matters that may be the cause of their problems, they have three choices: accept my method of teaching, find another teacher, or choose another discipline.
“But you? You’re here only because your guardian wishes it.” He looked at her directly. “Am I right?”
Sonea nodded.
“It’s hard to like what one is not good at.” The magician regarded her levelly. “Do you want to be better at this discipline, Sonea?”
She shrugged. “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “I suspect you are saying only what you believe you ought to say, Sonea. I will not repeat your answer to your guardian, if that is what you fear. I will not regard you badly if you say you do not. Consider the question carefully. Do you
Looking away, Sonea thought of Regin and his followers. Perhaps if what Yikmo taught her helped her to defend herself... but with so many novices allied against her what use was there in skill and strategy?
Was there any other reason to improve? She certainly didn’t care about gaining the High Lord’s approval - and even if she became as proficient as Yikmo or Balkan, she would never have the strength to fight Akkarin.
But one day the Guild might discover the truth about the High Lord. She wanted to be there to lend her strength in the fight. It would only increase the chances of beating him if she was good at Warrior Skills, too.
She straightened. Yes,
She looked up at Yikmo. “If it’s hard to like what one isn’t good at, will I like it more when I am better at it?”
The Warrior smiled broadly. “Yes. I promise that you will. Not all the time, though. We all have to suffer defeat from time to time, and I don’t know anyone who enjoys that.” He paused, his expression sobering. “But first we have some tougher matters to attend to. You have many weaknesses to overcome, and what you witnessed during the Purge has brought about most of them. Fear of killing has made you reluctant to strike and knowing that you are stronger than others makes you even more cautious. You have to learn to trust yourself. You have to learn the limits of your strength and Control - and I have devised some exercises that will help you do that. This afternoon we have the use of the Arena.”
Sonea stared at him in surprise. “The Arena?”
“Yes.”
“Just me?”
“All to yourself - and your teacher, of course.” He took a step toward the door. “Come along, then.”
Rising, she followed him out of the room and into the passage.
“Isn’t the Arena used by other classes every day?”
“Yes,” Yikmo replied. “But I convinced Balkan to find something else for his class to do this afternoon.” He glanced at her, smiling. “Something fun that took them outside the Guild, so they would not resent your intrusion.”
“What are they doing?”
He chuckled. “Blasting rock out of an old quarry.”
“What will they learn from that?”
“To respect the destructive potential of their powers.” He shrugged. “It also helps to remind them of the damage they could do to their surroundings should they ever fight outside the Arena.”
They reached the main corridor and continued to the rear stairway. As they left the building and started on the path to the Arena, Sonea looked up at the University windows. Though she could see no faces, she was suddenly conscious that her “private” lesson was not going to be at all private.
Descending into the Arena’s portal, they moved through darkness and into the sunlight again. Yikmo pointed toward the Healers’ Quarters.
“Strike at the barrier.”
She frowned. “Just... strike?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Any. It doesn’t matter. Just strike.”
Taking a deep breath, she focused her will and sent a firestrike toward the invisible shield. As it hit, hundreds of fine threads of energy rippled out between the curved spires of the Arena. The air vibrated with a
