though he wouldn't have put it that way, afraid of wizards. A bit contemptuousof sorcerers, with their sleights and illusions and gibble-gabble, but afraidof wizards. "Does Mother know?" Diamond asked. "She will when the time comes. But she has no part to play in your decision, Diamond. Women knownothing of these matters and have nothing to do with them. You must make yourchoice alone, as a man. Do you understand that?" Golden was earnest, seeinghis chance to begin to wean the lad from his mother. She as a woman wouldcling, but he as a man must learn to let go. And Diamond nodded sturdilyenough to satisfy his father, though he had a thoughtful look. "Master Hemlock said I, said he thought I had, I might have a, a gift, atalent for--?" Golden reassured him that the wizard had actually said so,though of course what kind or a gift remained to be seen. The boy's modestywas a great relief to him. He had half-consciously dreaded that Diamond wouldtriumph over him, asserting his power right away -- that mysterious,dangerous, incalculable power against which Golden's wealth and mastery anddignity shrank to impotence. "Thank you, Father," the boy said. Goldenembraced him and left, well pleased with him. THEIR MEETING PLACE was in the sallows, the willow thickets down by the Amia as it ran below the smithy. Assoon as Rose got there, Diamond said, "He wants me to go study with MasterHemlock! What am I going to do?" "Study with the wizard?" "He thinks I have this huge great talent. For magic." "Who does?" "Father does. He saw some of the stuff we were practicing. But he says Hemlock says I should come studywith him because it might be dangerous not to. Oh," and Diamond beat his headwith his hands. "But you do have a talent." He groaned and scoured his scalpwith his knuckles. He was sitting on the dirt in their old play-place, a kindof bower deep in the willows, where they could hear the stream running overthe stones nearby and the clang-clang of the smithy further off. The girl satdown facing him. "Look at all the stuff you can do," she said. "You couldn'tdo any of it if you didn't have a gift." "A little gift," Diamond saidindistinctly. "Enough for tricks." "How do you know that?" Rose was verydark-skinned, with a cloud of crinkled hair, a thin mouth, an intent, seriousface. Her feet and legs and hands were bare and dirty, her skirt and jacketdisreputable. Her dirty toes and fingers were delicate and elegant, and anecklace of amethysts gleamed under the torn, buttonless jacket. Her mother,Tangle, made a good living by curing and healing, bone-knittingand birth-easing, and selling spells of finding, love-potions, andsleeping-drafts. She could afford to dress herself and her daughter in newclothes, buy shoes, and keep clean, but it didn't occur to her to do so. Norwas housekeeping one of her interests. She and Rose lived mostly on boiledchicken and fried eggs, as she was often paid in poultry. The yard of theirtwo-room house was a wilderness of cats and hens. She liked cats, toads, andjewels. The amethyst necklace had been payment for the safe delivery of a sonto Golden's head forester. Tangle herself wore armfuls of bracelets andbangles that flashed and crashed when she flicked out an impatient spell. Attimes she wore a kitten on her shoulder. She was not an attentive mother. Rose had demanded, at seven years old, "Why did you have me if you didn't wantme?" "How can you deliver babies properly if you haven't had one?" said hermother. "So I was practice," Rose snarled. "Everything is practice," Tanglesaid. She was never ill-natured. She seldom thought to do anything much forher daughter, but never hurt her, never scolded her, and gave her whatever sheasked for, dinner, a toad of her own, the amethyst necklace, lessons inwitchcraft. She would have provided new clothes if Rose had asked for them,but she never did. Rose had looked after herself from an early age; and thiswas one of the reasons Diamond loved her. With her, he knew what freedom was.Without her, he could attain it only when he was hearing and singing andplaying music. "I do have a gift," he said now, rubbing his temples andpulling his hair. "Stop destroying your head," Rose told him. "I know Tarrythinks I do." "Of course you do! What does it matter what Tarry thinks? Youalready play the harp about nine times better than he ever did." This was another of the reasons Diamond loved her. "Are there any wizard musicians?"

he asked, looking up. She pondered. "I don't know." "I don't either. Morred and Elfarran sang to each other, and he was a mage. I think there's a MasterChanter on Roke, that teaches the lays and the histories. But I never heard ofa wizard being a musician." "I don't see why one couldn't be." She never sawwhy something could not be. Another reason he loved her. "It always seemed tome they're sort of alike," he said, "magic and music. Spells and tunes. Forone thing, you have to get them just exactly right." "Practice," Rose said,rather sourly. "I know." She flicked a pebble at Diamond. It turned into abutterfly in midair. He flicked a butterfly back at her, and the two flittedand flickered a moment before they fell back to earth as pebbles. Diamond andRose had worked out several such variations on the old stone-hoppingtrick. "You ought to go, Di," she said. "Just to find out." "I know." "What if you got to be a wizard! Oh! Think of the stuff you could teachme! Shapechanging B We could be anything. Horses! Bears!" "Moles," Diamondsaid. "Honestly, I feel like hiding underground. I always thought Father wasgoing to make me learn all his kind of stuff, after I got my name. But allthis year he's kept sort of holding off. I guess he had this in mind allalong. But what if I go down there and I'm not any better at being a wizardthan I am at bookkeeping? Why can't I do what I know I can do?" "Well, whycan't you do it all? The magic and the music, anyhow? You can always hire abookkeeper." When she laughed, her thin face got bright, her thin mouth gotwide, and her eyes disappeared. "Oh, Darkrose," Diamond said, "I loveyou." "Of course you do. You'd better. I'll witch you if you don't." Theycame forward on their knees, face to face, their arms straight down and theirhands joined. They kissed each other all over their faces. To Rose'slips Diamond's face was smooth and full as a plum, with just a hint ofprickliness above the lip and jawline, where he had taken to shaving recently.To Diamond's lips Rose's face was soft as silk, with just a hint of grittinesson one cheek, which she had rubbed with a dirty hand. They moved a littlecloser so that their breasts and bellies touched, though their hands stayeddown by their sides. They went on kissing. "Darkrose," he breathed in herear, his secret name for her. She said nothing, but breathed very warm in hisear, and he moaned. His hands clenched hers. He drew back a little. She drewback. They sat back on their ankles. "Oh Di," she said, "it will be awfulwhen you go." "I won't go," he said. "Anywhere. Ever." BUT OF COURSE he went down to Havnor South Port, in one of his father's carts driven by one of hisfather's carters, along with Master Hemlock. As a rule, people do what wizardsadvise them to do. And it is no small honor to be invited by a wizard to behis student or apprentice. Hemlock, who had won his staff on Roke, was used tohaving boys come to him begging to be tested and, if they had the gift for it,taught. He was a little curious about this boy whose cheerful good manners hidsome reluctance or self-doubt. It was the father's idea, not the boy's, thathe was gifted. That was unusual, though perhaps not so unusual among thewealthy as among common folk. At any rate he came with a very good prenticingfee paid beforehand in gold and ivory. If he had the makings of a wizardHemlock would train him, and if he had, as Hemlock suspected, a mere childishflair, then he'd be sent home with what remained of his fee. Hemlock was anhonest, upright, humorless, scholarly wizard with little interest in feelingsor ideas. His gift was for names. "The art begins and ends in naming," hesaid, which indeed is true, although there may be a good deal betweenthe beginning and the end. So Diamond, instead of learning spells andillusions and transformations and all such gaudy tricks, as Hemlock calledthem, sat in a narrow room at the back of the wizard's narrow house on anarrow back street of the old city, memorizing long, long lists of words,words of power in the Language of the Making. Plants and parts of plants andanimals and parts of animals and islands and parts of islands, parts of ships,parts of the human body. The words never made sense, never made sentences,only lists. Long, long lists. His mind wandered. "Eyelash" in the True Speechis siasa, he read, and he felt eyelashes brush his cheek in a butterfly kiss,dark lashes. He looked up startled and did not know what had touched him.