Later when he tried to repeat the word, he stood dumb. "Memory, memory,"Hemlock said. "Talent's no good without memory!" He was not harsh, but he wasunyielding. Diamond had no idea what opinion Hemlock had of him, and guessedit to be pretty low. The wizard sometimes had him come with him to his work,mostly laying spells of safety on ships and houses, purifying wells, andsitting on the councils of the city, seldom speaking but always listening.Another wizard, not Roke-trained but with the healer's gift, looked after thesick and dying of South Port. Hemlock was glad to let him do so. His ownpleasure was in studying and, as far as Diamond could see, doing no magicat all. "Keep the Equilibrium, it's all in that," Hemlock said, and,"Knowledge, order, and control." Those words he said so often that they made atune in Diamond's head and sang themselves over and over: knowledge, or-der,and contro-----1.... When Diamond put the lists of names to tunes he made up,he learned them much faster; but then the tune would come as part of the name,and he would sing out so clearly-- for his voice had re-established itself asa strong, dark tenor -- that Hemlock winced. Hemlock's was a very silenthouse. Mostly the pupil was supposed to be with the Master, or studying thelists of names in the room where the lorebooks and wordbooks were, or asleep.Hemlock was a stickler for early abed and early afoot. But now and thenDiamond had an hour or two free. He always went down to the docks and sat on apierside or a waterstair and thought about Darkrose. As soon as he was out ofthe house and away from Master Hemlock, he began to think about Darkrose, andwent on thinking about her and very little else. It surprised him a little. Hethought he ought to be homesick, to think about his mother. He did think abouthis mother quite often, and often was homesick, lying on his cot in his bareand narrow little room after a scanty supper of cold pea-porridge -- for thiswizard, at least, did not live in such luxury as Golden had imagined. Diamondnever thought about Darkrose, nights. He thought of his mother, or of sunnyrooms and hot food, or a tune would come into his head and he would practiceit mentally on the harp in his mind, and so drift off to sleep. Darkrose wouldcome to his mind only when he was down at the docks, staring out at the waterof the harbor, the piers, the fishing boats, only when he was outdoors andaway from Hemlock and his house. So he cherished his free hours as if theywere actual meetings with her. He had always loved her, but had not understoodthat he loved her beyond anyone and anything. When he was with her, even whenhe was down on the docks thinking of her, he was alive. He never felt entirelyalive in Master Hemlock's house and presence. He felt a little dead. Not dead,but a little dead. A few times, sitting on the waterstairs, the dirty harborwater sloshing at the next step down, the yells of gulls and dockworkerswreathing the air with a thin, ungainly music, he shut his eyes and saw hislove so clear, so close, that he reached out his hand to touch her. If hereached out his hand in his mind only, as when he played the mental harp, thenindeed he touched her. He felt her hand in his, and her cheek, warm-cool,silken-gritty, lay against his mouth. In his mind he spoke to her, and in hismind she answered, her voice, her husky voice saying his name, "Diamond ...." But as he went back up the streets of South Port he lost her. He swore tokeep her with him, to think of her, to think of her that night, but she fadedaway. By the time he opened the door of Master Hemlock's house he was recitinglists of names, or wondering what would be for dinner, for he was hungry mostof the time. Not till he could take an hour and run back down to the docks could he think of her. So he came to feel that those hours were true meetingswith her, and he lived for them, without knowing what he lived for until hisfeet were on the cobbles, and his eyes on the harbor and the far line of thesea. Then he remembered what was worth remembering. The winter passed by, andthe cold early spring, and with the warm late spring came a letter from hismother, brought by a carter. Diamond read it and took it to Master Hemlock,saying, "My mother wonders if I might spend a month at home thissummer." "Probably not," the wizard said, and then, appearing to noticeDiamond, put down his pen and said, "Young man, I must ask you if you wish tocontinue studying with me." Diamond had no idea what to say. The idea of its

being up to him had not occurred to him. "Do you think I ought to?" he askedat last. "Probably not," the wizard said. Diamond expected to feel relieved,released, but found he felt rejected, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said, withenough dignity that Hemlock glanced up at him. "You could go to Roke," thewizard said. "To Roke?" The boy's drop-jawed stare irritated Hemlock, thoughhe knew it shouldn't. Wizards are used to overweening confidence in the youngof their kind. They expect modesty to come later, if at all. "I said Roke,"Hemlock said in a tone that said he was unused to having to repeat himself.And then, because this boy, this soft-headed, spoiled, moony boy had endearedhimself to Hemlock by his uncomplaining patience, he took pity on him andsaid, "You should either go to Roke or find a wizard to teach you what youneed. Of course you need what I can teach you. You need the names. The artbegins and ends in naming. But that's not your gift. You have a poor memoryfor words. You must train it diligently. However, it's clear that you do havecapacities, and that they need cultivation and discipline, which another mancan give you better than I can." So does modesty breed modesty, sometimes,even in unlikely places. "If you were to go to Roke, I'd send a letter withyou drawing you to the particular attention of the Master Summoner." "Ah,"said Diamond, floored. The Summoner's art is perhaps the most arcaneand dangerous of all the arts of magic. "Perhaps I am wrong," said Hemlock inhis dry, flat voice. "Your gift may be for Pattern. Or perhaps it's anordinary gift for shaping and transformation. I'm not certain." "But you are-- I do actually --" "Oh yes. You are uncommonly slow, young man, torecognize your own capacities." It was spoken harshly, and Diamond stiffenedup a bit. "I thought my gift was for music," he said. Hemlock dismissed that with a flick of his hand. "I am talking of the True Art," he said. "Now I willbe frank with you. I advise you to write your parents -- I shall write themtoo -- informing them of your decision to go to the School on Roke, if that iswhat you decide; or to the Great Port, if the Mage Restive will take you on,as I think he will, with my recommendation. But I advise against visitinghome. The entanglement of family, friends, and so on is precisely what youneed to be free of. Now, and henceforth." "Do wizards have no family?" Hemlock was glad to see a bit of fire in the boy. "They are oneanother's family," he said. "And no friends?" "They may be friends. Did Isay it was an easy life?" A pause. Hemlock looked directly at Diamond. "Therewas a girl," he said. Diamond met his gaze for a moment, looked down, andsaid nothing. "Your father told me. A witch's daughter, a childhood playmate.He believed that you had taught her spells." "She taught me." Hemlock nodded. "That is quite understandable, among children. And quite impossiblenow. Do you understand that?" "No," Diamond said. "Sit down," said Hemlock.After a moment Diamond took the stiff, high-backed chair facing him. "I can protect you here, and have done so. On Roke, of course, you'll be perfectlysafe. The very walls, there...But if you go home, you must be willing toprotect yourself. It's a difficult thing for a young man, very difficult -a test of a will that has not yet been steeled, a mind that has not yet seenits true goal. I very strongly advise that you not take that risk. Writeyour parents, and go to the Great Port, or to Roke. Half your year's fee,which I'll return to you, will see to your first expenses." Diamond sat upright and still. He had been getting some of his father's height and girthlately, and looked very much a man, though a very young one. "What did youmean, Master Hemlock, in saying that you had protected me here?" "Simply as Iprotect myself," the wizard said; and after a moment, testily, "The bargain,boy. The power we give for our power. The lesser state of being we forego.Surely you know that every true man of power is celibate." There was a pause,and Diamond said, "So you saw to it...that I..." "Of course. It was myresponsibility as your teacher." Diamond nodded. He said, "Thank you."Presently he stood up. "Excuse me, Master," he said. "I have tothink." "Where are you going?" "Down to the waterfront." "Better stayhere." "I can't think, here." Hemlock might have known then what he was upagainst; but having told the boy he would not be his master any longer, he