Trudi Canavan - Black Magician 1 - The Magicians Guild

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"We should expect this young woman to be more

powerful than our average novice, possibly even

more powerful than the average magician."

This year, like every other, the magicians of Imardin gather to purge the city of undesirables. Cloaked in

the protection of their sorcery, they move with no fear of the vagrants and miscreants who despise them

and their work—until one enraged girl, barely more than a child, hurls a stone at the hated invaders... and

effortlessly penetrates their magical shield.

What the Magicians' Guild has long dreaded has finally come to pass. There is someone outside their

ranks who possesses a raw power beyond imagining, an untrained mage who must be found and

schooled before she destroys herself and her city with a force she cannot yet control.

"Truly magical... a wonderfully and meticulously

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detailed world and an edge-of-the-seat plot...

a must for lovers of good fantasy."

—Jennifer Fallon, author ofMedalon

"Not far now," Cery assured her.

She followed him over a wall into a large, neat garden. The trees were tall and symmetrical. He led her

along in the shadows of a wall that seemed to go on forever.

"Where are we?"

"Wait and see," Cery replied.

Something caught her foot and she stumbled against a tree. The roughness of the bark surprised her. She

looked up and around. Endless trees stood like sentries before her. In the dark they looked strange and

sinister, a forest of clawed arms.

A forest?She frowned. Then a chill seized her.There aren't any gardens in the North Quarter, and

there is only one forest in Imardin . . .

Her heart began to race. She hurried after Cery and grabbed his arm.

"Hai! What are you doing?" she gasped. "We're in theGuild !"

His teeth flashed. "That's right." She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Sonea. Think about it.

Where are the magicians? In the slums. You're actually safer here than there."

She drew in a sharp breath and shook her head. "But... theGuild , Cery!"

If this is a trap, I'm already doomed.

Books byTrudi Canavan

The Black Magician Trilogy

The Magicians' Guild

The Novice

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The High Lord

TheMagicians'Guild

The Black Magician Trilogy

Book One

TRUDI CANAVAN

An Imprint ofHarperCollinsPublishers

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's

imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events,

locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

EOS

An Imprint ofHarperCollinsPublishers

10 East 53rd Street

New York, New York 10022-5299

ISBN: 0-06-057528-X

www.eosbooks.com

written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For

information address Eos, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

First published by Voyager, an imprint of HarperCollins Australia

First Eos paperback printing: February 2004

Eos Trademark Reg. U.S. Pat. Off. and in Other Countries, Marca Registrada, Hecho en U.S.A.

HarperCollins® is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

10 987654321

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If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It

was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has

received any payment for this "stripped book."

CONTENTS

PART ONE

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

PART TWO

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Epilogue

Lord Dannyl's Guide to Slum Slang

Glossary

This book is dedicated to my father,

Denis Canavan.

He provided the spark that lit the twin fires of curiosity and creativity.

Acknowledgements

Many people have given me valuable encouragement, support and constructive criticism during the

writing of this trilogy. Thank you to:

Mum and Dad, for believing I could be whatever I wanted to be; Yvonne Hardingham, the big sister I

never had; Paul Marshall, for his inexhaustible ability to reread; Steven Pemberton, for gallons of tea and

some very silly suggestions; Anthony Mauriks, for the discussions on weaponry and demonstrations of

fighting; Mike Hughes, who foolishly wants to be a character; Shelley Muir, for friendship and honesty;

Julia Taylor, for her generosity, and Dirk Strasser, for giving it a go.

Also to Jack Dann, for giving me confidence in my writing when I needed it most; Jane Williams,

Victoria Hammond, and especially Gail Bell for making me feel welcome among non-sf writers at the

Varuna Writers' Centre and Carol Boothman, for her wisdom.

And I couldn't forget to thank Ann Jeffree. Paul Potiki, Donna Johansen, Sarah Endacott, Anthony

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Oakman, David and Michelle Le Blanc, and Les Petersen.

A warm thank you to Peter Bishop and the Varuna team. You helped me in ways too numerous to

mention.

Last, but not least, a special thanks goes to Fran Bryson, my agent and hero, for taking the books that

step further; and Linda Funnell, who said "yes, please!"

TheMagicians'Guild

The Black Magician Trilogy

Book One

PART ONE

Chapter 1

The Purge

It is said, in Imardin, that the wind has a soul, and that it wails through the narrow city streets because it

is grieved by what it finds there. On the day of the Purge it whistled amongst the swaying masts in the

Marina, rushed through the Western Gates and screamed between the buildings. Then, as if appalled by

the ragged souls it met there, it quietened to a whimper.

Or so it seemed to Sonea. As another gust of cold wind battered her, she wrapped her arms around her

chest and hugged her worn coat closer to her body. Looking down, she scowled at the dirty sludge that

splashed over her shoes with each step she took. The cloth she had stuffed into her oversized boots was

already saturated and her toes stung with the chill.

A sudden movement to her right caught her attention, and she side-stepped as a man with straggly gray

hair staggered toward her from an alley entrance and fell to his knees. Stopping, Sonea offered him her

hand, but the old man did not seem to notice. He clambered to his feet and joined the hunched figures

making their way down the street.

Sighing, Sonea peered around the edge of her hood. A guard slouched in the entrance of the alley. His

mouth was curled into a sneer of disdain; his gaze flitted from figure to figure. She narrowed her eyes at

him, but when his head turned in her direction, she quickly looked away.

Curse the guards,she thought.May they all find poisonous faren crawling in their boots. The names

of a few good-natured guards pricked her conscience, but she was in no mood to make exceptions.

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Falling into step with the shuffling figures around her, Sonea followed them out of the street into a wider

thoroughfare. Two- and three-story houses rose on either side of them. The windows of the higher floors

were crowded with faces. In one, a well-dressed man was holding up a small boy so he could watch the

people below. The man's nose wrinkled with disdain and, as he pointed his finger down, the boy

grimaced as if he had tasted something foul.

Sonea glared at them.Wouldn't be so smug if I threw a rock through their window. She looked

about half-heartedly, but if any rocks were lying about, they were well hidden beneath the sludge.

A few steps farther on, she caught sight of a pair of guards ahead of her, standing in the entrance to an

alley. Dressed in stiff boiled-leather coats and iron helmets, they looked to be twice the weight of the

beggars they watched. They carried wooden shields, and at their waists hung kebin—iron bars which

were used as cudgels, but with a hook attached just above the handle, designed to catch an attacker's

knife. Dropping her eyes to the ground, Sonea walked by the two men.

"—cut 'em off before they reach the square," one of the guards was saying. "About twenty of 'em. Gang

leader's big. Got a scar on his neck and—"

Sonea's heart skipped a beat.Could it be .. . ?

A few steps past the guards was a recessed doorway. Slipping into the shallow alcove, she turned her

head to sneak a look at the two men, then jumped as she saw two dark eyes staring back at her from the

doorway.

A woman gazed at her, eyes wide with surprise. Sonea took a step back. The stranger retreated too,

then smiled as Sonea let out a quick laugh.

Just a reflection!Sonea reached out and her fingers met a square of polished metal attached to the wall.

Words had been etched into its surface, but she knew too little about letters to make out what they said.

She examined her image. A thin, hollow-cheeked face. Short, dark hair. No one had ever called her

pretty. She could still manage to pass herself off as a boy when she wanted to. Her aunt said that she

looked more like her long-dead mother than her father, but Sonea suspected Jonna simply did not want

to see any resemblance to her absent marriage-brother.

Sonea leaned closer to the reflection. Her mother had been beautiful.Perhaps, if I grew my hair long,

she mused,and I wore something feminine . . .

... oh, don't bother.With a self-mocking snort, she turned away, annoyed at herself for being distracted

by such fantasies.

"—'bout twenty minutes ago," said a nearby voice. She stiffened as she remembered why she had

stepped into the alcove.

"And where are they expectin' to trap 'em?"

"D'know, Mol."

"Ah, I'd like to be there. Saw what they did to Porlen last year, little bastards. Took several weeks for

the rash to go away, and he couldn't see properly for days. Wonder if I can get out of—Hai! Wrong

way, boy!"

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Sonea ignored the soldier's shout, knowing that he and his companion would not leave their position at

the entrance of the alley, in case the people in the street took advantage of their distraction to slip away.

She broke into a jog, weaving through the steadily thickening crowd. From time to time, she paused to

search for familiar faces.

She had no doubt which gang the guards had been talking about. Stories of what Harrin's youths had

done during the last Purge had been retold over and over through the harsh winter of the previous year. It

had amused her to hear that her old friends were still making mischief, though she had to agree with her

aunt that she was better off keeping away from their troublemaking. Now it seemed the guards were

planning to have their revenge.

Which only proves Jonna right.Sonea smiled grimly.She'd flay me if she knew what I was doing, but I

have to warn Harrin. She scanned the crowd again.It's not like I'm going to rejoin the gang. I only

have to find a watcher —there!

In the shadows of a doorway, a youth slouched, glowering at his surroundings with sullen hostility.

Despite his apparent disinterest, his gaze shifted from one alley entrance to another. As his gaze met hers,

Sonea reached up to adjust her hood and made what would be taken to be a crude sign by most. His

eyes narrowed, and he quickly signed back.

the crowd and stopped a few steps away from the door, pretending to adjust the binding of her boot.

"Who're you with?" he asked, looking away.

"No one."

"You used an old sign."

"Haven't been about for a while."

He paused. "What you want?"

"Heard the guards talking," she told him. "Plan to catch someone."

The watcher made a rude noise. "And why should I believe you?"

"I used to know Harrin," she replied, straightening.

The boy considered her for a moment, then stepped out of the alcove and grabbed her arm. "Let's see if

he remembers you, then."

Sonea's heart skipped as he began to pull her into the crowd. The mud was slippery, and she knew she

would end up sprawling in it if she tried to brace her feet. She muttered a curse.

"You don't have to take me to him," she said. "Just tell him my name. He'll know I wouldn't mess him

about."

The boy ignored her. Guards eyed them suspiciously as they passed. Sonea twisted her arm, but the

boy's grip was strong. He pulled her into a side street.

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"Listen to me," she said. "My name is Sonea. He knows me. So does Cery."

"Then you won't mind seeing him again," the boy tossed over his shoulder.

The side street was crowded, and the people seemed to be in a hurry. She grabbed a lamppost and

pulled him to a halt.

"I can't go with you. I have to meet my aunt. Let me go—"

The press of people ended as the crowd passed and continued down the street. Sonea looked up and

groaned.

"Jonna's going to kill me."

A line of guards stretched across the street, shields held high. Several youths paced before them,

shouting insults and jibes. As Sonea watched, one threw a small object at the guards. The missile struck a

shield and exploded into a cloud of red dust. A cheer erupted from the youths as the guards backed

away a few steps.

Several paces back from the youths stood two familiar figures. One was taller and bulkier than she

remembered, standing with his hands on his hips. Two years of growth had erased Harrin's boyish looks

but from his stance, she guessed that little else had changed. He had always been the undisputed leader

of the gang, quick to smarten up anyone with a well-placed fist.

Beside him was a youth almost half his size. Sonea could not help smiling. Cery had not grown at all

since she had last seen him, and she knew how much that would annoy him. Despite his small stature,

Cery had always been respected in the gang because his father had worked for the Thieves.

As the watcher pulled her closer, she saw Cery lick a finger and hold it high, then nod. Harrin gave a

shout. The youths pulled small bundles from their clothes and hurled them at the guards. A cloud of red

billowed from the shields, and Sonea grinned as the men began to curse and cry out in pain.

Then, from an alley behind the guards, a lone figure stepped into the street. Sonea looked up and her

blood froze.

"Magician!" she gasped.

The boy at her side drew in a sharp breath as he too saw the robed figure. "Hai! Magician!" he shouted.

The youths and guards straightened and turned toward the newcomer.

Then all staggered back as a hot gust of wind battered them. An unpleasant smell filled Sonea's nostrils,

and her eyes began to sting as the red dust was blown into her face. The wind ceased abruptly, and all

was silent and still.

Rubbing tears away, Sonea blinked at the ground, hoping for some clean snow to ease the sting. Only

mud surrounded her, smooth and unbroken by footprints. But that couldn't be right. As her vision

cleared, she saw it was marked with fine ripples—all radiating out from the magician's feet.

"Go!" Harrin bellowed. At once the youths sprang away from the guards and fled past Sonea. With a

yelp, the watcher pulled her around and dragged her after them.

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Her mouth went dry as she saw that another line of guards waited at the end of the street. This was the

trap!And I've gone and got myself caught with them!

The watcher pulled her along, following Harrin's gang as the youths raced toward the guards. As they

drew close, the guards lifted their shields in anticipation. A few strides from the line, the youths veered

into an alleyway. Following on their heels, Sonea noted a pair of uniformed men lying slumped against a

wall by the entrance.

"Duck!" a familiar voice shouted.

A hand grabbed her and pulled her down. She winced as her knees struck the cobblestones under the

mud. Hearing cries behind her, she looked back to see a mass of arms and shields filling the narrow gap

between the buildings, a cloud of red dust billowing around them.

"Sonea?"

The voice was familiar and full of amazement. She looked up, and grinned as she saw Cery crouching

beside her.

"She told me the guards were planning an ambush," the watcher told him.

Cery nodded. "We knew." A smile spread slowly across his face, then his eyes flickered past her to the

guards, and the smile vanished. "Come on, everyone. Time to go!"

He took her hand, pulled her to her feet and led her between the youths bombarding the guards. As they

did, a flash of light filled the alley with a blinding whiteness.

"What was that?" Sonea gasped, trying to brink away the image of the narrow street which seemed to

hang before her eyes.

"The magician," Cery hissed.

"Run!" Harrin bellowed nearby. Half blind, Sonea stumbled forward. A body slammed into her back and

she fell. Cery grasped her arms, pulled her to her feet, and guided her onward.

They leapt out of the alley and Sonea found herself back on the main street. The youths slowed, lifting

hoods and hunching their backs as they spread amongst the crowd. Sonea followed suit, and for several

minutes she and Cery walked in silence. A tall figure moved to Cery's side and peered around the edge

of his hood to regard her.

"Hai! Look who it is!" Harrin's eyes widened. "Sonea! What are you doing here?"

She smiled. "Getting caught in your mischief again, Harrin."

"She heard the guards were planning an ambush and came looking for us," Cery explained.

Harrin waved a hand dismissively. "We knew they'd try something, so we made sure we had a way out."

Thinking of the guards slumped in the alley entrance, Sonea nodded. "I should've guessed you knew."

"So where have you been? It's been . . . years."

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"Two years. We've been living in the North Quarter. Uncle Ranel got a room in a stayhouse."

"I hear the rent stinks in those stayhouses—and everything costs double just 'cause you're living inside

the city walls."

"It does, but we got by."

"Doing what?" Cery asked.

"Mending shoes and clothes."

Harrin nodded. "So that's why we haven't seen you for so long."

Sonea smiled.That, and Jonna wanted to keep me from getting mixed up with your gang. Her aunt

had not approved of Harrin and his friends. Not at all...

"Don't sound too exciting," Cery muttered.

Looking at him, she noted that, though he hadn't grown much in the last few years, his face was no

longer boyish. He wore a new longcoat with threads dangling where it had been cut short, and probably

loaded with a collection of picks, knives, trinkets and sweets hidden in pockets and pouches within the

lining. She had always wondered what Cery would do when he grew out of picking pockets and locks.

"It was safer than hanging about with you lot," she told him.

Cery's eyes narrowed. "That's Jonna talking."

Once, that would have stung. She smiled. "Jonna's talking got us out of the slums."

"So," Harrin interrupted. "If you've got a room in a stay-house, why are you here?"

Sonea scowled and her mood darkened. "The King's putting out the people in stayhouses," she told him.

"Says he don't want so many people living in one building—that it's not clean. Guards came and kicked

us out this morning."

Harrin frowned and muttered a curse. Glancing at Cery, she saw that the teasing look in his eyes had

died. She looked away, grateful, but not comforted, by their understanding.

With one word from the Palace, in one morning, everything that she and her aunt and uncle had worked

for had been taken away. There had been no time to think about what this meant as they had grabbed

their belongings before being dragged out into the street.

"Where are Jonna and Ranel, then?" Harrin asked.

"Sent me ahead to see if we can get a room in our old place."

Cery gave her a direct look. "Come see me if you can't."

She nodded. "Thanks."

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Trudi Canavan - Black Magician 1 - The Magicians Guild

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