"This will do," Aeron said. To be honest, it was a far finer room than any he'd called his own in Maerchlin, but he was determined not to let his hallmates guess the truth. He shrugged his bedroll and pack from his shoulder onto the bed, drifting to the window in amazement. He'd seen too much in one day. Wandering through the city, meeting Telemachon, walking around the College of Mages . . . he'd never dreamed how much existed outside the small villages and wide forests of his home.

"Stand to!" barked Baldon. Aeron nearly leapt out of his boots, whirling and raising a hand to defend himself. All three of his companions faced the door, bowing.

In the doorway stood a tall, handsome youth, a red tabard and cap over his gray breeches and white shirt. He leaned against the lintel, surveying the scene, a well-pleased smirk resting on his confident face. His gaze halted on Aeron. "Please don't tell me that this dung-toting peasant is our new fish," he said languidly.

"Yes, sir, Lord Dalrioc," answered Baldon. "He's our new fish, sir."

The young wizard straightened and advanced, a scowl settling over his features. "Haven't they taught you anything yet, fish?"

Aeron noted the inferior pose the others had assumed and realized that Dalrioc expected him to copy them. Awkwardly he did so. "I only arrived today, my lord."

"From what stinking midden heap, I can only imagine," Dalrioc commented. "What idiot let you in here?"

"Master Telemachon."

"And for what possible reason would the High Diviner allow a wretch like you to soil my hall?"

With a conscious effort, Aeron bit back a sharp retort and instead answered, "I'm here to study magic, my lord."

Dalrioc laughed harshly. "By Assuran! Why not teach a pig to sing while we're at it?"

Despite the warning glance Melisanda shot at him, Aeron straightened and looked Dalrioc in the eye. "I've studied some already," he said evenly.

"What, did some hedge wizard teach you how to make potions with bat wings and mudwort?"

"No. I had the honor to study under a great elven mage. He sent me here to continue my learning."

Dalrioc stalked around Aeron, circling him. "Very well. Let us see you work some elven magic, new fish. Impress me with your powers."

Melisanda raised her eyes and spoke. "Lord Dalrioc, we haven't had a chance to explain things to Aeron. He doesn't know any better. Please allow us to correct his abominable behavior. There's no need to trouble yourself with such an insignificant creature."

Dalrioc wheeled on Melisanda with such savagery that Aeron almost expected him to strike her, but at the last moment he reined in his anger. He narrowed his eyes and said, "You are not to inform me of what I may or may not find insignificant, fish. However, you are correct in observing that you have failed miserably in preparing Aeron to become a novice of the college. In reparation, the three of you may empty every chamber pot in Sword Hall three times a day for the next week. And, Melisanda, since you are so anxious to make amends, you may make my bed in the morning and turn down my covers in the evening." Dalrioc allowed his eyes to rest on Melisanda long enough for the Vilhonese girl to flush and look at the floor.

"But it's my ignorance, and no fault of theirs!" Aeron protested, disregarding the silent warnings of his fellows.

"Make that two weeks," Dalrioc amended. "Each time this fish is disrespectful to me, I'll add another."

Aeron fell silent. He could see where this was going.

"Now, I asked you to work a spell," Dalrioc continued. "I cannot believe that you have any worthwhile command of the art, but since you seem to think so, let's see you prove it." He crossed his arms and offered an indulgent smile, but his eyes were cold and hard.

"Yes, my lord," Aeron replied. He searched through his mind for a moment, seeking something appropriate. He was fleetingly tempted to lash out with fire hand or the charm of blindness simply to see how Dalrioc would react. Instead, he chose to work the charm of invisibility. With a whisper and a quick, skillful turn of the cool currents of the Weave around him, he vanished from sight.

The novices' eyes widened in surprise, but they held their tongues and waited motionlessly. Dalrioc, on the other hand, was visibly shocked. He mouthed a vile oath and scowled. "You know the spell of invisibility?" he said, speaking in Aeron's direction.

"Yes," Aeron answered. To illustrate the scope of his spell, he opened and closed one of the dresser's drawers. "Fineghal, my old tutor, taught me the spell months ago."

"Release it at once," Dalrioc demanded.

Aeron did so, slowly fading back into view.

The older student glared at Aeron for a long moment, and then stomped out of the room. "Remember-two weeks of chamber pots, and more if you don't get him squared away quickly!" he barked over his shoulder. He slammed the door shut behind him.

Melisanda, Baldon, and Eldran heaved sighs of relief. Aeron faced them. "I'll take care of the chamber pots."

"You'll do no such thing," Melisanda retorted. "If Dalrioc suspects that you carried out just one pot, he'd skin us alive for disobeying him. Do you understand me?"

Aeron nodded slowly. "I do."

Baldon dragged out the chair by the desk and straddled it, resignation on his face. "Well, make yourself comfortable, Aeron. We've got a lot to tell you about the rules of the hall."

"Before we start, I have a question. Why was he so surprised by the spell I chose?"

To Aeron's astonishment, all three novices laughed. "Because Dalrioc can't work it himself," Melisanda said. "Illusions are his weakest school. If you already know how to weave a spell as advanced as that, you won't be a novice for long. He'll make your life miserable for a few weeks, but you'll be recognized as a student in no time at all."

Seven

Aeron met the rest of his hallmates in the refectory that evening. Besides Melisanda, Baldon, and Eldran, there were eighteen more fish who shared his lowly status. Most were highborn Chessentans from all over the country, even a few from cities that were rivals or enemies of Cimbar, and a handful from other lands. By twos and threes, they drifted into the refectory, joining Aeron and his new friends at the table reserved for the novices of Sword Hall.

Somehow Melisanda and the two boys had found the time to quietly spread the news among the novices of Aeron's arrival and his moral victory over Dalrioc. From one end of the table to the other, he was greeted with broad smiles and easy jests. Aeron was beginning to understand that adversity builds fellowship; the twenty-one-now twenty-two-fish of Sword Hall were united against the ruthless tyranny imposed by the students.

"Well, he shouldn't have challenged me to prove myself without knowing a thing about me," Aeron replied to their congratulations. He looked around discreetly; the masters dined at the high table, and long tables just below were reserved for the students of each of the four halls. Dalrioc held court among the Sword Hall students, laughing and conversing without a care in the world. From time to time, other students, and even a master or two, came over to speak with him. Apparently Dalrioc was a student of some importance. "Why does everyone hover around him like that?" Alies asked Melisanda.

"He's a Corynian," she said with a shrug.

Aeron frowned, trying to understand the significance of that statement. Then it struck him. The Corynians ruled the wealthy city of Soorenar, one of the principal rivals of Cimbar. Born to one of the highest families in Chessenta, and he's no better than I, Aeron thought. So much for nobility. He allowed himself a moment to revel in his minor victory over Dalrioc Corynian before returning his attention to his surroundings. "I thought Soorenar fought against Cimbar and was defeated," he said slowly. "If he's a prince of a beaten city, why's he so important?"