Read Online The High Lord by Trudi Canavan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Trudi Canavan
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as?”
“How Lord Coren discovered how to manipulate stone.”
“Anything else?”
That he learned black magic.
She didn’t want to say it, but Akkarin obviously wanted some sort of acknowledgment of the fact. What would he do if she refused to talk about it? He would probably keep pressing her. She was too tired to think her way around a conversation like that.
“He used black magic. He saw it was wrong,” she said shortly. “He stopped.”
The corner of his mouth curled up into a half-smile. “Indeed. I do not think the Guild would like to discover that. The real Coren is not a figure they would want young novices to idolize, even if he redeemed himself in the end.” He held out the books. “This is a far older record. I have brought an original as well as a copy. The original is deteriorating, so handle it only as much as you need to confirm the copy is true.”
“Why are you showing me these books?”
The question came out before she could stop it. She winced at the insolence and suspicion in her voice. Akkarin’s eyes bored into her own and she looked away.
“You want to know the truth,” he said. It was not a question.
He was right. She did want to know. A part of her wanted to ignore the books—to refuse to read them just because he wanted her to. Instead, she stepped forward and took them from him. She did not meet his eyes, though she knew he was watching her closely.
“As with the diary, you should not allow anyone to learn of these records,” he said quietly. “Do not even allow your servant to see them.”
She backed away and looked down at the cover of the older book.
Record of the 235th Year,
the cover stated. The book was over five hundred years old! Impressed, she glanced up at Akkarin. He nodded once, knowingly, then turned away. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, then she heard the faint sound of his bedroom door closing.
The books were heavy. She pushed the door closed with a small pulse of magic, and moved to her desk. Pushing aside her notes, she laid the two books side by side.
Opening the original, she gently turned the first pages.
The writing was faint and unreadable in places. Opening the copy, she felt a strange frisson as lines of elegant handwriting appeared. Akkarin’s handwriting.
After reading a few lines of the original, she checked them against the copy and confirmed that the two were identical. Akkarin had left notes where the text had faded, outlining what he thought the missing words might be. She turned more pages, checked again, then chose another page from the center of the book and one from near the end. All seemed to match the copy perfectly. Later, she decided, she would check every page and every word.
Putting the original aside, she turned back to the first page of the copy and began to read.
It was a day-by-day record of a Guild much younger and smaller than the current one. After several pages, she had grown fond of the record-keeper, who clearly admired the people he was writing about. The Guild he knew was very different from the one she understood. Magicians took on apprentices in exchange for money or assistance. Then a comment by the author made it clear what that assistance entailed, and she stopped, aghast.
These early magicians strengthened themselves by drawing magic from their apprentices. They used black magic.
She read and reread the passage over and over, but its meaning was clear. They called it “higher magic.”
She looked at the spine and saw that she was a quarter of the way through the book. Continuing, she found the records gradually focused on the activities of a wayward apprentice, Tagin. It was discovered that the young man had taught himself higher magic against the wishes of his master. Abuses were uncovered. Tagin had taken strength from ordinary folk, which was never done except in times of great need. The record-keeper expressed disapproval and anger, then his tone abruptly changed to fear. Tagin had used
“How Lord Coren discovered how to manipulate stone.”
“Anything else?”
That he learned black magic.
She didn’t want to say it, but Akkarin obviously wanted some sort of acknowledgment of the fact. What would he do if she refused to talk about it? He would probably keep pressing her. She was too tired to think her way around a conversation like that.
“He used black magic. He saw it was wrong,” she said shortly. “He stopped.”
The corner of his mouth curled up into a half-smile. “Indeed. I do not think the Guild would like to discover that. The real Coren is not a figure they would want young novices to idolize, even if he redeemed himself in the end.” He held out the books. “This is a far older record. I have brought an original as well as a copy. The original is deteriorating, so handle it only as much as you need to confirm the copy is true.”
“Why are you showing me these books?”
The question came out before she could stop it. She winced at the insolence and suspicion in her voice. Akkarin’s eyes bored into her own and she looked away.
“You want to know the truth,” he said. It was not a question.
He was right. She did want to know. A part of her wanted to ignore the books—to refuse to read them just because he wanted her to. Instead, she stepped forward and took them from him. She did not meet his eyes, though she knew he was watching her closely.
“As with the diary, you should not allow anyone to learn of these records,” he said quietly. “Do not even allow your servant to see them.”
She backed away and looked down at the cover of the older book.
Record of the 235th Year,
the cover stated. The book was over five hundred years old! Impressed, she glanced up at Akkarin. He nodded once, knowingly, then turned away. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, then she heard the faint sound of his bedroom door closing.
The books were heavy. She pushed the door closed with a small pulse of magic, and moved to her desk. Pushing aside her notes, she laid the two books side by side.
Opening the original, she gently turned the first pages.
The writing was faint and unreadable in places. Opening the copy, she felt a strange frisson as lines of elegant handwriting appeared. Akkarin’s handwriting.
After reading a few lines of the original, she checked them against the copy and confirmed that the two were identical. Akkarin had left notes where the text had faded, outlining what he thought the missing words might be. She turned more pages, checked again, then chose another page from the center of the book and one from near the end. All seemed to match the copy perfectly. Later, she decided, she would check every page and every word.
Putting the original aside, she turned back to the first page of the copy and began to read.
It was a day-by-day record of a Guild much younger and smaller than the current one. After several pages, she had grown fond of the record-keeper, who clearly admired the people he was writing about. The Guild he knew was very different from the one she understood. Magicians took on apprentices in exchange for money or assistance. Then a comment by the author made it clear what that assistance entailed, and she stopped, aghast.
These early magicians strengthened themselves by drawing magic from their apprentices. They used black magic.
She read and reread the passage over and over, but its meaning was clear. They called it “higher magic.”
She looked at the spine and saw that she was a quarter of the way through the book. Continuing, she found the records gradually focused on the activities of a wayward apprentice, Tagin. It was discovered that the young man had taught himself higher magic against the wishes of his master. Abuses were uncovered. Tagin had taken strength from ordinary folk, which was never done except in times of great need. The record-keeper expressed disapproval and anger, then his tone abruptly changed to fear. Tagin had used
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