“Arram, my dear, your Gift has hold of you,” Dagani told him softly. “Make it release you. You are the master. Make it accept your will. Otherwise I will be forced to use stern measures.” She paused and said, “They may involve removing your shirt.”
The thought of the beautiful Dagani seeing his bony chest made Arram fling his power around the fugitive tendrils, then shove them down into his center with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. Once they were subdued, sinking into the pool of his Gift, he sat up, banging into Ozorne’s shoulder.
Dagani drew over a chair and sat on it. “You need to work on your concentration. You must not lose your hold on your power in your sleep—a greater mage might draw it from you as a spinster draws thread from wool.”
“I would never!” Ozorne said with a grin. Dagani quelled him with a raised eyebrow. The prince ducked his head and busied himself in drawing up chairs for himself and Varice.
“What happened to you?” the mage asked. “One moment you were with us, and then…your Gift broke away and your mind followed it. You collapsed.”
Arram remembered and moaned with disappointment. “I missed it! You see, there was this tremendous power outside the wall, so huge I could feel it—”
“Oh, please,” Ozorne said, though he was smiling. “The master didn’t feel any tremendous power! You’re mistaking your own loss of control—”
Dagani held up her hand. “This power, did it move consistently in one direction, or did it shift here and there?”
Arram had been staring at Ozorne with hurt—how could his friend say such a thing? The master’s question distracted him. There had been one strain of magic, immense, but farther away. It hadn’t come near him. It was the other that had moved, approaching the gate. “It moved,” he murmured. “I think it was going to come through the gate, even with all the magic on it, but it stopped when you pulled me away.”
“Well.” Dagani tapped her full red mouth with a finger that was tipped with blue lace-like designs. “You would have learned these things in the Upper Academy as you grew more attuned to…the natural world, and the Divine Realms.” The three students stared at one another, amazed. They hadn’t heard of this aspect of magecraft. “Magic attracts magic. Normally it is not a factor, unless you are working very powerful spells. As masters you would be taught how to ward off magics that would interfere. But there are other magics that might be drawn to you.”
She rose and walked to the open door, looking outside. “The power you felt—and I know you felt it—the slow one that moves in one direction is the Zekoi River and its god. I’ve been feeling the itch all day. He doesn’t always come this far north, but when he does, you know it.” She leaned on the doorway. “And the other that nearly caught you must have been one of the lesser gods.”
“Can they pass through the spells on the wall?” Varice asked nervously. “I’m not sure I want to deal with any gods, ever.”
“If they do, Master Cosmas will summon a group of us to deal with whichever god it is, be it hippopotamus, crocodile, hyena, snake.” Dagani smiled. “You need not worry, my dear. This place has drawn magical beings for centuries, and we always manage to deal with them. Now, Arram will meditate for the rest of our time, to settle down, while you two will undertake our first lesson.”
—
At supper Arram was trying to create an image of the power he had seen for his friends when a runner tapped him on the shoulder. The image flew apart. Arram turned to glare at the older boy. “I almost had it!” he snapped.
“Shouldn’t use your power in the dining hall anyway,” the runner informed him. He was chewing on a straw. “Cooks don’t like it.” He shoved a folded note at Arram and wandered off. Fluttering her fan, Varice watched him leave.
“Don’t tell me you admire that oaf,” Ozorne scolded Varice as Arram unfolded the note. “I heard he goes into the city with his bully friends and picks fights with the gumat.” He’d used the word for the street toughs in the poorest parts of town.
“Looking doesn’t mean swooning,” Varice retorted, rapping her royal friend lightly on the shoulder. “Arram, what is it?”
“I have a new class with Master Yadeen,” he moaned in dismay. “Before breakfast!”
“Hag roll the dice,” Ozorne murmured. “Studying what?”
Arram knew he must look as puzzled as his friends. “Juggling!”
THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY OF CARTHAK
The School for Mages
The Lower Academy for Youthful Mages
REVISED SCHEDULE OF STUDY, SUMMER TERM, 436 H.E.–SPRING TERM, 437 H.E.
Student: Arram Draper
Learning Level: Semi-Independent
Second Morning Bell
Summer Term—Juggling—Yadeen Autumn Term, Spring Term—Stones and Magic, Juggling—Yadeen
Breakfast—Third Morning Bell
Morning Classes
Gems and Stones—Summer Term—Third-year student Religions—Autumn and Spring Terms—Third-year student Four-Legged Animals: Anatomy—Summer, Autumn, Spring Terms—First-year animal healer Language: Ergwae
Lunch—Noon Bell
Afternoon Classes
Protective Circles—Cosmas Illusions: Objects—Dagani Basic Spellcraft—Summer, Autumn, Spring Terms—Fourth-year student Monkey, Orangutan, and Gorilla: Anatomy—Summer, Autumn, Spring Terms—First-year animal healer
Supper—Seventh Afternoon Bell
Extra Study at Need
“Inhuman,” Arram moaned to himself as he lurched up the gently sloping path. “Should have—have stayed home with the family business. No friend keeping me up all night asking how I knew ’bout power if it was outside a shielded wall….” He stopped for a yawn that made the hinges of his jaw crack. Then he turned down the roofed corridor that would lead him to the master’s workroom. Of course it was at the end of the walkway, past three gardens. Each had spraying fountains set in patterns of colored stones. Arram would have loved to stick his head in a fountain to cool off—the sun had already turned hot, in only an hour!—but he had a long day ahead, beginning with Yadeen.
The last workroom on the corridor was open. Arram found Yadeen leaning against the far wall. He always forgot how big the man was!
He bowed. “Good morning, sir,” he said nervously.
Yadeen, wearing a loose pale linen shirt and breeches, nodded. He was turning something over in his large hands. Before Arram could guess what it was—it was small enough to be hidden in Yadeen’s grip—the master said, “Catch,” and tossed it to him.
The wooden ball hit Arram in the middle of the chest—not hard, but enough that Arram noticed it was there. “I’m sorry,” he said as he fumbled and dropped the ball. He retrieved it. “I wasn’t—”
“Catch.” Yadeen calmly tossed another ball at him. Arram reached for it and dropped both that ball and the one he already held.
“The idea,” Yadeen said, “is for you to catch the first ball one-handed so you will be able to catch the second ball with your other hand.” When he saw Arram glance around at the shadowy room, he said, “Let’s go outside, where we’ll have more light.” He led the way to a patch of bare earth next to the building.