always equaled C and the equation could be applied to the ordinary world; a science that described the visible world and could be used to do things. Useful things.
It was the one class he seldom skipped. And, as was all too often the case in his life, it was the one class that was held only once a fortnight. The instructor was the least-regarded Mage in the entire Mage College; an old, old man, an Undermage all of his life, an Undermage still, who would die an Undermage. His robes were plain and uncared for, and though clean, were threadbare about the hem; his eyes were distant and a little sad beneath his heavy white brows. There was a dispirited air about him, a sense that he had given up long ago, and was merely marking time here, teaching the one thing he knew well to Students and Apprentices who did not value it, until the Council would permit him to retire to a little set of rooms somewhere.
And die.
Not that anyone would ever notice. Possibly the old Mage himself might not notice.
But he was very good at teaching Maths. It probably was the only thing he was good at. And even if Lycaelon wasn't impressed by Kellen's high marks in the subject, the old man seemed to revive just a little whenever his eyes fell on his prize pupil.
Kellen had thrown himself into work on the hardest problem they'd ever been set the moment he had arrived in class—because while he was working on the pure lightness of the puzzle, he didn't have to think about anything that had been happening to him. He could forget his father, forget the Wild Magic and the three Books, forget what had happened to poor Perulan. Everything between the covers of his workbook was a matter of figures, line, and angle, and there was only ever one right answer.
But his concentration was interrupted when he was only halfway through the complex calculation by a heavy hand falling on his shoulder.
Startled, he looked up, for the old Mage had never gripped his shoulder like that before.
It wasn't his instructor.
The burly, sallow-faced fellow in the uniform tabard of a servant of the Council looked down at him with an unreadable face.
Kellen clamped down on his jolt of fear.
It wasn't just the lack of expression in the man's face that made him unreadable, it was the feeling that this man had only a trifle more life and thought in him than one of the Council's stone golems…
'Kellen Tavadon?' the man asked, completely without inflection except for the slight rise at the end of the two words that made it a question instead of a statement.
Kellen wondered what the man would do if he denied being himself; considered doing just that for one fleeting moment, then nodded, reluctantly.
'You are summoned to attend the High Council at the third bell of afternoon.'
By now the rest of his class was staring at him—and at the stony-faced apparition that had delivered the Council's message. It was the most attention he'd gotten from his fellow Students in moonturns. Some of them were whispering to each other. The poor old Mage just looked confused.
'The third bell,' the man repeated.
'I—understand,' Kellen managed to say.
A cold hand closed around his heart, and a cold finger traced its way down his spine. The Council! This could only be Lycaelon's work. So he was to be punished for last night's rebellion after all.
'The third bell.' With a thud, the messenger let fall something on Kellen's workbook. Kellen picked it up; it was a heavy brass plate engraved with the Council sigil, the sign that he had been called before them. Having said his piece and delivered his burden, the Council's retainer turned on his heel and left. Kellen picked up the little brass plate and shoved it into his pocket, then tried to go back to his Maths problem, but he had completely lost the ability to concentrate.
What do they want? Surely my having an argument with Father is no matter for the Council?
Unless Father makes it one…
The rest of the members of the class murmured to each other as he bent his head over his paper.
The sound of the voices, though—there was nothing in their tone to warn him that they had any notion why he was being summoned.
But he did. Oh, yes, he did. He just didn't want to even consider it.
