The Mageborn Traitor--Exiles, Volume 2 by Melanie Rawn

Author:Melanie Rawn [Rawn, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 1998-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

23

TAIGAN’S room in the women’s wing was spare and plain. The window faced north—always the most undesirable for lighting and warmth, which irked her mightily. The view was of a few dull trees across summer-dun hills and, beyond, the pointed green tip of St. Lirance’s copper-clad belltower in the otherwise invisible town of Heathering. Marra Gorrst watched her like a hawk, obviously expecting disparaging remarks—especially when the shared-bathroom arrangement was described. Taigan simply nodded. She wasn’t here on holiday, after all. She was here to become a Mage Guardian. And the sooner her Wards were unWorked and the process began, the happier she’d be.

When Marra left her alone to unpack (a task occupying three whole minutes), she took time only to change into a fresh shirt and brush the dust off her boots before leaving her tiny chamber to explore. Unlike Mikel, she didn’t get lost. But she didn’t learn anything interesting either—not until the early afternoon.

She joined her brother and the rest of the community for lunch in the refectory. Neither her mother nor the Mage Captal attended, which surprised her not at all. They were old friends, and probably had a lot of talking to do—mainly about Taigan and Mikel. The twelve long trestle tables were packed with Mage Guardians and Prentices, chattering and laughing and teasing and discussing the morning’s lessons and chores. But for the age of some of the senior Mages, it was like any other refectory at any other college on Lenfell (with the exception of St. Senasto’s, where aspiring votaries were educated in almost total silence). There were even patron Saints painted on the walls—direct copies of the ones on the walls of Firrense, Taigan noted, and done very well, too. Miryenne with her lighted candle and Rilla with her white sparrow were obvious. She recognized Mikellan, of course, source of her brother’s name: a blond young man climbing a ladder. Delilah was there, too—she who had been a Mage Guardian in life—and Caitiri at her forge, plainly in tribute to the Captal. But Gorynel? Oh, of course; a reference to the famous First Sword. That explained Elinar Longsight and Lusine as well, for the last two Captals, Leninor Garvedian and Lusath Adennos. Deiket was for the Scholar Mages, she supposed, just as Delilah was for the Warriors and Fielto for the Healers—and Steen Swordsworn must be for the Captal’s Warders.

The Mage Guardians certainly laid claim to a lot of Saintly protection, she told herself as she sat beside Mikel and waited for the food to be served. A young man came to their table with huge platters of bread, cheese, and sliced beef; another with pitchers of water and lemonade; yet another with a bowl of sliced raw vegetables. Simple fare, simply served. Taigan wondered if the evening tradition of candles and flowers held here, and decided it couldn’t. There were too many people, too many tables, and too much chance of hot food going cold.

A young woman with reddish-brown hair introduced

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