In the instant of that understanding, she was confronted by another door, a portal that suddenly materialized to stand upright on the ground before her, bringing her stumbling progress to an abrupt halt. Dazed, she studied the door. It was not in any of the three colors she had come to expect; rather, this was a simple panel of wooden boards strapped together with bands of iron. Come to think of it, it seemed identical to the long-ago door she had opened during the initial phase of the Test.

She had no doubt that she would open this door, and again pass through, but first she took a moment to gather her strength, to marshal her thoughts. A glance to the side showed her that the white moon, Solinari, was just rising above the flat horizon, a full white disk that seemed to smile upon her, shower her with promise, kindness, and love. Allowing that beneficence to fill her heart, she reached for the latch and pushed open the door.

Now she entered a huge, dark room, so vast that all the walls were lost in the shadows of distance. She was alone. Turning to look at the door she had entered, she was startled to see it was no longer there-indeed, the wall behind her was as far away as the other boundaries of the vast chamber. Her torch was in her hand and she raised it up, spotting a small table a few paces away. There was a pitcher of water on that table and she snatched it up, eagerly drinking down half the contents, with much of the rest splashing onto her dirty, dust-stained tunic.

It was then that she noticed the chairs some distance away, many of them arranged in a ring, all facing the center of the room. She approached, and studied the nearest chair. It, and all the others, seemed to be carved from black stone, as if they were part of the floor rather than resting upon it. There were twenty-one of these sturdy seats, arranged in three sections of seven.

"For the three orders," she murmured in sudden understanding.

She imagined a great meeting, a Conclave of the three orders, and she even saw herself, Coryn, sitting as the head of that great meeting.

All of a sudden she realized the chairs were occupied, not by people, but by empty, yet animated robes. The three sections were divided between the red, black, and white robes. The three different-colored robes filled the seats, turned and moved as if engaged in lively discourse, empty sleeves gesturing.

And then the hoods of those robes-with empty holes where the faces should be-all turned toward Coryn. They watched her intently, expectantly. She felt a momentary panic-what was she supposed to do now?

That is when the three moons came into view, rising with impossible speed until they loomed over her. Even the black one was visible, because it was actually darker than the darkness yawning above. The white was brilliant, the red like a spot of fresh blood, and all were full, round, and nearing zenith.

She heard a groan, coming from across the room, beyond the chairs. She made her way around the ring of ghostly robes, ignoring the gestures, the pantomimes urging her to stay. Instead she crossed to the far wall of the room. A spot of light attracted her and when she drew near, she saw that this was not a door, but more of a passage right through the wall of the room. She drew nearer and gasped as she recognized the familiar interior of Umma's little hut.

She stopped, pressing her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob of dismay.

Umma lay in her bed, wasted and frail. Her eyes were bright with fever; sweat streaked her brow. She turned her face back and forth, and her eyes were vacant, unseeing. A violent chill wracked her skeletal body, and she coughed and gagged, straining for each wheezing breath.

"Umma!" cried the girl, starting forward. The gap in the wall shimmered; there lay a free passageway that would take her away from the Tower, take her home, to this place where she was desperately needed.

"Wait!"

A command came from behind her, pulling her around. She saw the Master there, the white-bearded visage coming toward her slowly, holding up a restraining hand. He leaned on his staff but shuffled forward urgently.

"But she needs me!" she said. "I have to go to her."

"You don't understand," replied the Master of the Tower. "The Test reveals many truths, to you and about you. And this is the part that may doom you!"

"How?"

"You have felt the power, the magic, as you have wandered these past hours, have you not? And here, in the Hall of Mages, you saw the wizards of the Conclave all turning to you-honoring you, attending you, seeking your wisdom?"

"Y-yes. I saw that, sensed it."

"This has never happened before," the Master declared. "That one so young, so unprepared, has nearly emerged from the Test in a position, not just of learning, but of power, command, and influence! All this magic, the accolades of your fellow wizards, all will be yours if you but finish the Test!"

"While this hole in the wall you see before you, this escape from the Tower, is a cruel deception. For if you leave now, if you go to your grandmother and turn your back on the Conclave, your powers will be wiped away. You will have renounced the magic, renounced the world, and gone back to your miserable little village in the Icereach to live out your years. Until you, too, die as an old woman on a wretched pallet in a pathetic hut!"

"It is not a miserable village!" Coryn snapped, furious. "And you have no right to stop me! It is the place that made me what I am-the place where I belong!"

"No… I have no right," said the old man with a feeble shake of his head. "But I thought that you should know the very real stakes involved."

"My grandmother is truly ill?" she asked, knowing it to be the truth.

"Oh, most certainly. Probably dying-the Test does not deceive in these matters."

"Then I must go to her."

"The choice," said the Master of the Tower, "is yours."

Coryn nodded. She thought of the flight spell, of the tower of wonders, and the wizards of the Conclave. But she knew where she belonged. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of her decision, but there was only one thing she could do. She stepped forward, through the opening in the wall, and reached out to soothe Umma's fevered brow.

But Umma was no longer there. Instead, Coryn stood in a hallway-the same place where she had started the Test, she realized. There was a table beside her that had not been there hours-days?-earlier, when she had begun. Three objects rested there: a clear bottle containing a blood-red liquid, a small book of midnight black, and a slender wand of white.

She was obliged to take these things, she understood, and so she picked up the bottle first. But where to put it?

Only then did she realize that she no longer wore her travel-worn shirt and torn leather leggings. With a sense of awe, she looked down, felt the smooth, plush material against her skin, a cloth caress that felt wonderful all around her.

She was wearing a robe that was perfectly, immaculately white.