University Director, oversaw all matters involving the training of novices. From this conversation, Rothen might learn about her progress.
“It is,” Jerrik replied. “The High Lord spoke to me yesterday. A few of her teachers had commented to me that she appeared to be tired and was easily distracted. Akkarin had made the same observation, and agreed to let her have the evenings free for the rest of the year.”
“What of those subjects she has already begun studying?”
“She’ll have to begin them again next year, though she won’t have to repeat any projects if she doesn’t need to. Her teachers will take into account what she has covered already.”
The voices were growing fainter. Rothen resisted the urge to look around.
“Will she be favoring a discipline?” Peakin asked. “This will make it even more necessary that she focus her efforts on one soon, or she will not be proficient in any by graduation.”
“Akkarin hasn’t decided yet,” Lorlen replied.
“Akkarin
hasn’t decided?” Jerrik repeated. “The choice is Sonea’s.”
There was a pause. “Of course,” Lorlen agreed. “What I meant by that is Akkarin hasn’t indicated to me which he’d prefer her to choose, so I’m assuming he hasn’t decided what to recommend.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to influence her in any way,” Peakin said. “Which is why he… a good grounding… before…”
The voices faded into the distance. Guessing that the magicians were moving away, Rothen sighed and drained his glass.
So Sonea had her evenings to herself. His mood darkened at the thought of her stuck in her room in the High Lord’s Residence, close to Akkarin and his evil habits. Then he remembered that she had always spent her spare time in the Novices’ Library. No doubt she would simply go there every evening now she was free of classes.
Feeling a little better, Rothen rose, gave his empty glass to a servant, then went in search of Yaldin.
Since Irand had allocated them a study room, Dannyl and Tayend had gradually added furnishings until it was as com-fortable as any nobleman’s guestroom. In addition to the large table that had once dominated the room, there were comfortable chairs and a couch, a well-stocked wine cabinet and oil lamps for reading. The lamps were also the only source of heat when Dannyl was not there. Today, however, he had set a globe of magic in an alcove in one wall, and the heat had quickly chased away the chill of the stone walls.
Tayend had been absent when Dannyl arrived at the library. After talking to Irand for an hour, Dannyl had continued on to their study room to wait for his friend. He was struggling through the records of a seaside estate in the vague hope of finding a reference to ancient magic when Tayend finally arrived.
The scholar stopped in the middle of the room and swayed, clearly a little drunk.
“Looks like you’ve been having a good time,” Dannyl observed.
Tayend sighed dramatically. “Ah, yes. There was good wine. There was fine music. There were even a few rather good-looking acrobats to admire… But I dragged myself away, knowing that I could only escape for a few sweet hours from slaving in the library for my relentlessly demanding Guild Ambassador.”
Dannyl crossed his arms and smiled. “Slaving, indeed. You’ve never done an honorable day’s work in your life.”
“Plenty of dishonorable ones, though.” Tayend grinned. “And besides, I did a little work for us at this party. Dem Marane was there—the man who might be a rebel.”
“Really?” Dannyl uncrossed his arms. “That’s a coincidence.”
“Not really.” Tayend shrugged. “I see him occasionally at parties, but I haven’t had much conversation with him since he first introduced himself. Anyway, I decided to have a chat and give him a hint that we were interested in attending his parties.”
Dannyl felt a stab of alarm. “What did you say?”
Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing
“It is,” Jerrik replied. “The High Lord spoke to me yesterday. A few of her teachers had commented to me that she appeared to be tired and was easily distracted. Akkarin had made the same observation, and agreed to let her have the evenings free for the rest of the year.”
“What of those subjects she has already begun studying?”
“She’ll have to begin them again next year, though she won’t have to repeat any projects if she doesn’t need to. Her teachers will take into account what she has covered already.”
The voices were growing fainter. Rothen resisted the urge to look around.
“Will she be favoring a discipline?” Peakin asked. “This will make it even more necessary that she focus her efforts on one soon, or she will not be proficient in any by graduation.”
“Akkarin hasn’t decided yet,” Lorlen replied.
“Akkarin
hasn’t decided?” Jerrik repeated. “The choice is Sonea’s.”
There was a pause. “Of course,” Lorlen agreed. “What I meant by that is Akkarin hasn’t indicated to me which he’d prefer her to choose, so I’m assuming he hasn’t decided what to recommend.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to influence her in any way,” Peakin said. “Which is why he… a good grounding… before…”
The voices faded into the distance. Guessing that the magicians were moving away, Rothen sighed and drained his glass.
So Sonea had her evenings to herself. His mood darkened at the thought of her stuck in her room in the High Lord’s Residence, close to Akkarin and his evil habits. Then he remembered that she had always spent her spare time in the Novices’ Library. No doubt she would simply go there every evening now she was free of classes.
Feeling a little better, Rothen rose, gave his empty glass to a servant, then went in search of Yaldin.
Since Irand had allocated them a study room, Dannyl and Tayend had gradually added furnishings until it was as com-fortable as any nobleman’s guestroom. In addition to the large table that had once dominated the room, there were comfortable chairs and a couch, a well-stocked wine cabinet and oil lamps for reading. The lamps were also the only source of heat when Dannyl was not there. Today, however, he had set a globe of magic in an alcove in one wall, and the heat had quickly chased away the chill of the stone walls.
Tayend had been absent when Dannyl arrived at the library. After talking to Irand for an hour, Dannyl had continued on to their study room to wait for his friend. He was struggling through the records of a seaside estate in the vague hope of finding a reference to ancient magic when Tayend finally arrived.
The scholar stopped in the middle of the room and swayed, clearly a little drunk.
“Looks like you’ve been having a good time,” Dannyl observed.
Tayend sighed dramatically. “Ah, yes. There was good wine. There was fine music. There were even a few rather good-looking acrobats to admire… But I dragged myself away, knowing that I could only escape for a few sweet hours from slaving in the library for my relentlessly demanding Guild Ambassador.”
Dannyl crossed his arms and smiled. “Slaving, indeed. You’ve never done an honorable day’s work in your life.”
“Plenty of dishonorable ones, though.” Tayend grinned. “And besides, I did a little work for us at this party. Dem Marane was there—the man who might be a rebel.”
“Really?” Dannyl uncrossed his arms. “That’s a coincidence.”
“Not really.” Tayend shrugged. “I see him occasionally at parties, but I haven’t had much conversation with him since he first introduced himself. Anyway, I decided to have a chat and give him a hint that we were interested in attending his parties.”
Dannyl felt a stab of alarm. “What did you say?”
Tayend waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing
Similar Books
