On the afternoon of the third day of lessons, Aeron and his fellows gathered in the cold Chamber of Conjuration. Like the other halls in which they attended the masters, the chamber was lined with plain stone benches for the novices. Its walls were marked with arcane designs and intricate relief work, and the room was illuminated by anchored spheres of wizard light. Aeron gazed around in curiosity while his hallmates conversed in low whispers.

At half past the hour, Master Oriseus swept into the room with a springy stride. He grinned and waved his arms expansively. "Why, if it isn't the hungry little fish of Sword Hall!" he announced, feigning surprise. "What little piece of wisdom shall I allow them to devour today? How can I assuage their ravenous greed for knowledge?" Without waiting for an answer, he tugged on his beard and smiled. "Today, I think we shall attempt the conjuration of ordinary animals. The techniques we practice today are indispensable components of greater and more powerful conjurations you may learn as students."

Aeron straightened and leaned forward. After days of drudgery at Dalrioc's command and dry hours of esoteric lecturing in the halls of instruction, a master was finally going to show him how to work a spell! The other novices buzzed with eagerness. On average, only three or four lectures each week actually involved the working of magic. He listened attentively.

Oriseus spent an hour describing the arcane formula that locked the spell's power in the mind, the materials that energized the summoning, the gestures and phrases that bound the conjured creature to the wizard's will. While Aeron tried to absorb Oriseus's lecture without comparison to the elven magic he already knew, he couldn't help but observe that the approach was different. Human magic was ritualized. Instead of images or symbols, spells were memorized by long, complicated phrases in ancient tongues. Elven magic was more fluid, shaped by the circumstance of location and need; human magic, on the other hand, seemed swifter and more mechanical.

Oriseus concluded his monologue by causing a string of magical writing to appear in the air before the novices with a simple turn of his hands. "Record these words in your books, my dear little fish," he announced. "They are an element common to many of the easier conjurations, a single stone in the tower of your spell, if you will. Then commit them to your memory."

While the novices busily scratched away with pen and ink to copy the magical phrase, Oriseus paced the room, observing their work. "Baldon, you clod! You've miscopied calgius as colvius! You'd conjure nothing but a head cold with that! Bram, since you seem to have mastered the spell already, you shall be the first to cast. Hurry up. I'm growing tired of keeping these letters in the air!"

Eventually the last of the novices looked up with a sheepish grin, realizing that everyone else had readied himself to work Oriseus's simple spell. Aeron had taken longer than anyone else to copy and understand the phrasing, but the actual process of memorization had been easy for him. He was ready not long after Melisanda, the fastest of the novices, had finished.

"Excellent!" Oriseus announced. "Now, watch closely while I work the cantrip." He spoke the magical phrase loudly and clearly, holding his hands in front of his chest, palms turned inward. Aeron felt the light caress of the Weave at work. To his senses, it seemed cropped or truncated, squared off by the rigorous and unyielding framework of the conjuror's words . . . but it worked. There was an odd sizzling sound, and a scrawny squirrel appeared in the center of the room. "As you can see, I chose to conjure a squirrel," Oriseus explained. "I did so by concentrating on everything I would expect of a squirrel while working this spell. Now, since this is a mere fragment of a conjuration, the effect is quite temporary, and our magical phrase included no means to control or direct the animal upon its appearance."

Alarmed by the situation, the gray rodent chittered and ran in a circle, seeking escape. Oriseus watched with a crooked smile. "My hospitality does not appeal to you, Master Rodent? Very well, then. Remove yourself from my presence at once!" He raised one hand, spoke a single sharp word, and with a flash of light, the squirrel vanished. "As you can see, my little fish, the last word of the conjuration serves as a dismissal. I advise you not to forget it, in the event you conjure up something you'd rather not spend a lot of time with."

"Master Oriseus? Where did the squirrel come from?" Aeron asked.

The master conjuror beamed and bobbed his head. "Why, I have no earthly idea, young Aeron!"

"Did your magic actually create a living squirrel?"

"Oh, that would be a powerful spell indeed, to create life out of nothingness! No, Aeron, a conjuration simply borrows what you seek from somewhere else. Sometimes it is magical energy itself that you borrow, with an advanced spell of this sort . . . but to answer your first question, somewhere in this wide world there is a rather confused squirrel wondering what just happened."

"It almost seems unethical," Melisanda mused aloud. "What right do we have to wrench a creature from its native surroundings?"

Oriseus hopped up and down in delight. "Ah, wonderful! Master conjurors have debated this very topic for years beyond counting! Truly, my little fish, you astound me this morning. But let's set aside this thorny issue for the moment, promise ourselves that we shall not injure or misuse any creature that joins us today, and proceed with the practice of this spell. For the summoning itself is not sinister, my lords and ladies. Only the purpose to which the summoner sets his guest is for good or ill!"

One by one, the Sword Hall novices worked their way through the fragmentary conjuration. Most of the students recited the words and performed the gestures correctly, but the effort to seize and wield the magic around them brought beads of sweat to their brows and grimaces of pain. Aeron felt as if he were watching tone-deaf musicians blindly plucking at an instrument's strings, hoping by dint of repetition to find the note they sought. Even Melisanda, the most skillful of the novices, frowned and seized the power necessary for her spell with a catlike lunge.

"Novice Aeron? Show us how it is done," Oriseus directed. He wore an expression of beatific patience.

"Yes, Master Oriseus." Aeron stood and advanced to the center of the room. He carefully pronounced the unfamiliar words while imitating Oriseus's posture and gestures. He could sense the ethereal currents of the Weave that swirled in the chilly air, the dense power that waited within the stones of the room, the fiery sparks burning in every living heart. With ease, he wove the elements together, heart racing with the brilliant clarity of magic in his mind and hands. He pictured a sea gull in his mind-there were plenty in and around the harbor-and through the magic of the spell, he felt the image in his mind spring into existence before him.

Aeron opened his eyes. In the room's center a gull stood, regarding him patiently. Unlike the creatures conjured by the other novices, it didn't waver or fade; Aeron had woven well enough to hold it effortlessly.

"Well done, Aeron," Oriseus breathed. "I see now why you were sent to study with us."

Aeron accepted the praise with a scant nod. "The spell's simple enough, but the words aren't familiar to me."

"The words are paint and canvas, lad. You'll need to know how to use them sooner or later. But the way you make them work, that is the essence of the art!" Oriseus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I shall have to keep an eye on you, Aeron Morieth. Do you recall the dismissal?"

He nodded and repeated the last word of the conjuration. With a tiny portion of his mind, he released the currents of magic that held the gull in the chamber. It ghosted out of view, taking wing as it returned to nothingness. He glanced around and realized that the other novices were looking at him with open astonishment on their faces. They don't feel the Weave as I do, Aeron realized. I may not have their learning, but I can wield magic as easily as they.