Read The Magicians' Guild for Free Online Page B

it a secret for a while.”
    Harrin pursed his lips, then nodded. “If anyone asks if you can do magic, Sonea, we’ll tell them you didn’t do anything— that the magicians must’ve lost their concentration or something, and the stone got through that way.”
    Sonea stared at him, the possibility filling her with hope. “Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe I didn’t do anything.”
    “If you can’t use magic again, you’ll know for sure.” Cery patted her on the shoulder. “If you can, we’ll make sure that no one finds out. In a few weeks, everyone will think the magicians just made a mistake. Give it a month or two and they’ll forget all about you.”
    A rapping on the door made Sonea jump. Rising, Harrin opened the door and let Donia in. The girl carried in a tray laden with mugs and a large plate of bread.
    “Here,” she said, placing the tray on a table. “A mug of bol each to celebrate the return of an old friend. Harrin, Father wants you to go out for him.”
    “Better see what he wants.” Harrin picked up a mug and drained it. “I’ll see you around, Sonea,” he said. He caught Donia about the waist and pulled her, giggling, out of the room. Sonea shook her head as the door closed.
    “How long has
that
been going on?”
    “Those two?” Cery asked, his mouth full of bread. “Almost a year, I think. Harrin says he’s going to marry her and inherit the inn.”
    Sonea laughed. “Does Gellin know?”
    Cery smiled. “Hasn’t chased Harrin off yet.”
    She picked up a piece of the dark bread. Made from curren grains, it was dusted with spices. As she bit into it, her stomach made it known that she had been neglecting it for over a day, and she found herself eating ravenously. The bol was sour, but welcome after the salty bread. When they had finished, Sonea dropped into the chair and sighed.
    “With Harrin busy keeping an inn, what will you do, Cery?”
    He shrugged. “This and that. Steal bol from Harrin. Teach his children to pick locks. At least we’ll be warm this winter. What’ve you got planned?”
    “I don’t know. Jonna and Ranel said—Oh!” She leapt to her feet. “I didn’t meet them. They don’t know where I am!”
    Cery waved a hand dismissively. “They’ll be around.”
    She groped for her money pouch, and found it hanging full and heavy at her waist.
    “Nice bit of savings you’ve got there,” Cery noted.
    “Ranel said we should each carry a bit and head for the slums on our own. We’d be so unlucky to all be searched by the guards.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know how much went in there.”
    He laughed. “So do I, and it’s all there. Come on, I’ll help you find them.”
    Rising, he ushered her through the door and out into a short corridor. Sonea followed him down a narrow flight of stairs into a familiar drinking room. As always, the air was thick with bol fumes, laughter and a constant flow of chatter and amiable swearing. A large man slouched over the bench where the thick liquor was served.
    “Morning Gellin,” Cery called.
    He narrowed his eyes at Sonea short-sightedly, then grinned.
    “Hai! This is little Sonea, eh?” Gellin strolled over and clapped her on the shoulders. “All grown up, too. I remember when you used to swipe bol from me, girl. A dainty little thief, you were.”
    Sonea grinned and cast a glance at Cery. “And it was all my idea, too, wasn’t it, Cery?”
    Cery spread his hands and blinked innocently. “What do you mean, Sonea?”
    Gellin chuckled. “That’s what comes of hanging about with Thieves. How are your parents, then?”
    “You mean Aunt Jonna and Uncle Ranel?”
    He waved a hand. “That’s them.”
    Sonea shrugged and quickly described her family’s eviction from the stayhouse. Gellin nodded sympathetically at their misfortune.
    “They’re probably wondering where I got to,” she told him. “I—”
    Sonea jumped as the door of the inn slammed. The room quietened and all looked toward the entrance.