The Novice

than steal it? she mused as she left the house. With the cloak covering her robes, she received no more stares as she continued toward the Northern Gates.

The guards gave her only a cursory glance as she entered the slums. They were more concerned about dwells leaving the slums than who was going in. A smell, both unpleasant and comfortingly familiar, enveloped her as she moved into the winding streets. Looking around, she felt herself relax a little. Here, Regin and Akkarin seemed like distant, petty worries.

Then she noted a man eyeing her from the door of a bolhouse and tensed again. This was still the slums, and though she could protect herself with magic, it would be better to avoid having to. Keeping alert and within the shadows, she made her way quickly along the streets and alleys.

Jonna and Ranel now lived in a more prosperous part of the slums, where the residents lived in sturdy wooden houses. She slipped into a Market to buy some blankets and a basket filled with vegetables and fresh bread. She wished she could buy something more luxurious, but Jonna had always refused such gifts, saying: “I don’t want anything with the look of the Houses in my home. People will get strange ideas about us.”

As she arrived at the street her family lived in, she tossed a few savory buns to a small gang of boys sitting on some empty crates at the corner. They called out their thanks. She realized she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for months.

Not since Dorrien visited, she thought suddenly. But best not to think of Dorrien.

Reaching the house of her aunt and uncle, she sobered. Since she joined the Guild, they had been uneasy and awkward. They had witnessed her lose Control of her powers over a year before, and Sonea would not have been surprised if they were still afraid of her. But she knew that she would never overcome their fear or awkwardness if she didn’t keep visiting them. They were still her only family and she was not going to let them disappear from her life.

She knocked. A moment later, the door opened and Jonna stared at her in surprise.

“Sonea!”

Sonea grinned. “Hello, Jonna.”

Jonna pushed open the door. “You look different... but I see what you’ve done with the cloak. Is that legal?”

Sonea snorted. “Who cares? I got your letter today, and had to see you. Here, I brought you a present to celebrate.”

Handing over the basket and blankets, Sonea moved into the small, simply furnished guestroom. Ranel stepped into the room and laughed with delight.

“Sonea! How’s my little niece?”

“Well. Happy,” Sonea lied. Don’t think about Akkarin. Don’t spoil the afternoon.

Ranel hugged her. “Thank you for the money,” he murmured.

Sonea smiled and started to take off the cloak, then thought better of it. Seeing a cot at one side of the room, she moved over to it and looked down at her sleeping cousin.

“He’s growing well,” she said. “No problems?”

“No, just a bit of a cough,” Jonna said, smiling. She patted her belly. “We’re hoping for a girl this time.”

As they talked, Sonea was relieved to find them more relaxed in her presence. They ate some of the bread, played with the baby when he woke, and discussed names for the next one. Ranel told Sonea news about old friends and acquaintances, and other events that had concerned the slum dwellers.

“We weren’t in the city, but we heard when the Purge happened,” Ranel said, sighing. He glanced at her. “Did you...?” he asked reluctantly.

“No.” Sonea scowled. “Novices don’t go. I... I guess it was stupid, but I thought they wouldn’t have one, after what happened last year. Perhaps, when I’ve graduated...” She shook her head. What will I do? Talk them out of it? As if they’d listen to a slum girl.

She sighed. She was still a long way from ever being able to help the people she had once felt she belonged among. The idea of persuading the Guild to stop the Purge seemed naive and ridiculous now, as did the hope that they’d ever offer Healing to the dwells.

“What else have we got in here?” Jonna said, poking among the vegetables in the basket. “Are you staying for dinner, Sonea?”

Sonea straightened in alarm. “What time is it?” Looking through one of the high, narrow windows, she saw that the light outside was subdued and golden. “I’ll have to go back soon.”

“You be careful going home,” Ranel said. “You don’t want to run into this murderer everyone’s talking about.”

“He won’t be any rub for Sonea,” Jonna said, chuckling.

Sonea smiled at her aunt’s confidence. “What murderer?”

Ranel’s eyebrows rose. “I’d have thought you’d have known about it already. Been all over the city.” He grimaced. “They say the murderer isn’t one of the Thieves - I’ve heard the Thieves are out for him. Had no luck, though.”

“I can’t see him evading the Thieves for long,” Sonea mused.

“But it’s been going on for months,” Ranel said. “And some dwells say they remember similar killings happening a year ago, and before that.”

“Does anyone know what he looks like?”

“Stories are all different. But most say he wears a ring with a big red gem.” Ranel leaned forward. “The strangest story I heard was from one of our customers. He said that his sister’s husband owns an inn down Southside. This man heard someone yelling in one of the rooms one night, so he checked on them. When he opened the door, the murderer jumped out the window. But instead of falling to the ground, three stories down, he fell upward like he was flying!”

Sonea shrugged. Many people of dubious employment used the paths across the rooftops of the slums, known as the High Road. It was possible the man had swung out on a handhold and climbed up to the roof.

“That wasn’t what was strange,” Ranel continued. “What spooked the innkeeper was that the man staying in the room was dead, but all he had on his body were shallow cuts.”

Sonea frowned. Dead, but without any wounds except a few shallow cuts? Then her blood turned to ice. A memory flashed into her mind of Akkarin in the underground room.

Takan dropped to one knee and offered his arm. In Akkarin’s hand was a glittering dagger. He ran the blade over the servant’s skin, then placed a hand over the wound...

“Sonea. Are you listening?”

She blinked, then looked at her uncle. “Yes. Just remembering something. From a long time ago. All this talk of murderers.” She shivered. “I must go.”

As she stood, Jonna enveloped her in a hug. “It is good knowing you can protect yourself, Sonea. I don’t have to worry about you.”

“Hmph. You could at least worry about me a bit.”

Jonna laughed. “All right. If it makes you feel better.”

Sonea said goodbye to Ranel, then stepped out into the street. As she continued through the slums, she could not help remembering Lorlen’s words during the truth-read.

“I fear that, though I do not like to think it, you may be an attractive victim for him. He knows you have strong powers. You would be a potent source of magic.”

But Akkarin could not kill her. If she disappeared, Rothen and Lorlen would tell the Guild of his crime. Akkarin would not risk that.

Yet, as she walked through the city gates into the North Quarter, Sonea could not help worrying. Had he made the slums his hunting ground? Were her aunt and uncle in danger?

He will not kill them, either, she told herself. Then I would tell the Guild the truth.

But then it suddenly occurred to her that visiting her aunt and uncle was the worst kind of foolishness. She had all but disappeared; only Tania knew where she had gone. If Lorlen and Rothen had heard she was missing, they might decide it was Akkarin’s doing. Or Akkarin might have concluded that she had left the Guild, and be