The silence stretched out for a long moment, until Oriseus suddenly burst into motion, wringing his hands melodramatically and grimacing. "Alas! Our brief time together is at an end. Next week I shall return with another conjuration for you to master. In the meantime, practice and study, practice and study!" The novices stirred and rose, shuffling to the door. Aeron turned to gather his things and join them, but Oriseus caught his arm and drew him aside. "Where did you say you'd studied, Aeron?"

"I learned from Fineghal, the Storm Walker of the Maerchwood, a lord of the Tel'Quessir."

"So that was Telemachon's secret." Oriseus nodded to himself, his eyes distant. After a moment, he looked back to Aeron. "You will not remain a novice for long. You may have to familiarize yourself with the tools of human wizardry, but you can gather and weave magic that none of your fellows can even perceive yet. It is an injustice to treat you as a novice."

"I noticed how awkward my classmates were. But until I learn the languages they've already studied, I'll only be able to use a fraction of my talent."

Oriseus dismissed his objections with a wave of his hand. "When you become a student, Aeron, you will be asked to choose a discipline. Think about the tabard and cap of conjuration. I would greatly like to work with you in more advanced studies."

"I don't know what to say, Master Oriseus."

The saturnine master grinned. "You do not have to decide yet, Aeron. Now, go and catch up to your hallmates. You'll need their fellowship for at least a little longer." He bobbed his head and retreated, leaving Aeron alone in the cold stone chamber.

* * * * *

Cimbar's weather was cooler and wetter than that of the Maerchwood, especially in the last months of winter. The great city was raked by winds howling across the Inner Sea for weeks in a row. The novices were permitted to leave the college grounds during the days of the week's end, when no formal lessons were scheduled. From time to time, Aeron explored the old city with his hallmates, although his empty purse kept him from joining them in their more expensive revels. More often he spent his free hours engaged in relentless study, holed up in a remote recess of the college library or in an unused classroom in the academic halls, hoping to escape Dalrioc Corynian's attention by making himself hard to find.

Aeron struggled to master Thorass, Old Untheric, and ancient Rauric, the forgotten tongues that most of the college's masters used for the recording of spells. However, he excelled in the working of the phrases and fragments the masters used for practical demonstrations of spellcasting. Even schools with which he had little experience, such as necromancy or conjuration, he grasped quickly. In a matter of weeks, he caught up to and surpassed the most advanced novices among his hallmates.

It wasn't in Aeron's nature to be satisfied, not as long as the vast store of knowledge held within the college walls remained unconquered. Within a month of arriving, Aeron understood just how little he knew, how far he had to go, and instead of settling down to patiently journey into the realms before him, he decided to plunge ahead with inexhaustible energy. He was here to learn as much as he could; there was no point in attacking the task ahead with anything less than his complete and obsessive attention. With challenging studies to engage him, Chessenta's greatest city to explore, wealth and comfort enough to feel guilty about his good fortune, and associates who shared his intelligence and interests, Aeron was content for the moment.

But one inescapable condition ground him down every day: the spiteful malice of Dalrioc and the circle of students who followed in his wake. The Soorenaran prince had not forgotten Aeron's defiance at their first meeting, and at every opportunity, he found some way to make Aeron miserable. His room was inspected and found wanting on a regular basis. His knowledge of Chessentan history, lineage, law, and the inane trivia pertaining to the college and its former students was examined through dogged interrogations that exposed a weak chink in his armor. Aeron had never learned the histories and heroes' names that Dalrioc and his noble friends had been taught in childhood. Aeron was required to write out the rolls of kings and nobles hundreds of times and submit them to Dalrioc for review.

Aeron's only response was to immerse himself even further in his studies. His natural talent for wielding magic quickly earned him the admiration and envy of his fellow fish. Even Melisanda frequently sought out Aeron to help her study for her upcoming novitiate examination. Aeron lived for the chance to spend a quiet hour with her. Melisanda's face haunted his dreams, and it took all of his willpower to force these thoughts to the back of his mind when she was near.

On a bitterly cold evening two days before her test, he lingered after they'd finished going over the last of her spells, unwilling to return to his own quarters. "Dalrioc's waiting for me; I can just feel it," he sighed.

"I've never seen him single out a fish the way he's watching you, Aeron," Melisanda told him. "Dalrioc even arranges for other students to keep an eye on you when he has to attend a lecture or do some research."

"It's working," Aeron said bitterly. "Sooner or later I'm going to lose my temper, and then he'll really have me."

Melisanda offered a sympathetic smile. "You're something completely antithetical to what he believes about the world: a commoner who is better than he."

"I might be a better mage, Melisanda, but I don't have his wealth or his power. Why does he resent me?"

"Because Dalrioc Corynian is accustomed to being the best at whatever he turns his hand to. It's how he was raised." She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Be patient. You're as ready for a novitiate examination as I am, and once you become a student, he can't touch you."

The door thumped loudly, and Dalrioc's clear voice rang outside. "Out in the hall, fish!"

"Guess he got bored," Aeron muttered. Melisanda rolled her eyes and stood. They filed out and found Dalrioc waiting in the dark, gleaming hallway, arms crossed over his chest. He smirked with anticipation.

"Aeron, it seems that you spend a good deal of time in Melisanda's rooms," he observed. "Don't you realize that she is quite above your station?"

Aeron flushed. Dalrioc's remark cut too close to the truth. "I was helping her study," he replied.

"Ah! Well, since you have time on your hands to help your hallmates, I am certain that you won't mind running a small errand for me." Dalrioc stepped closer and sharpened his gaze. "I require a stone from the Broken Pyramid."

The Broken Pyramid? Aeron looked up. The ruins of the Untheric obelisk were avoided by all but the masters. Many precious artifacts-and sleeping dangers-were said to be lost in the blasted rubble and the catacombs beneath, but the word among the novices was to give it a wide berth. Aeron swallowed and asked, "What manner of stone?"

"About this large," the prince said, using his hands to measure an imaginary rock about the size of his two fists together. "Any one should do."

"Lord Dalrioc, the ruins of the pyramid are dangerous," Melisanda said. "Can Aeron do this in the morning?"

Dalrioc raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid that I have an immediate need for a stone in a spell I am studying. You are not a student yet, Melisanda. Do not presume to tell me how and when I should conduct my studies." He ran his eyes up and down her body, then added, "Since you are concerned for Aeron, you may join him. I don't expect you'll need a cloak if you hurry."

Melisanda glared back at the prince but held her silence. Not daring to protest any further, the two fish hurried outside into the howling night. The air was so cold that it took Aeron's breath away; on the exposed hillside, the wind scoured them with a stinging spray of needlelike ice. "Sorry I got you into this!" Aeron gasped, shouting to be heard over the wind.