no more work by the feeble light. He reached the bottom and looked along the broad expanse of the building. Still clutching the brush, he ran the back of his hand across his brow. Some four hundred feet of wall, and after three days it was still only half painted. And this on top of digging a quarter mile of trench and cleaning more than three score dirty pens.
He heard footfalls on the cobblestone steps and then the gentle swish of a robe against the grass. He dropped the brush into the bucket and turned just as Lectonil approached from behind.
'You make good progress, neophyte,' the magician said. 'In a few more days the south facade will be done. In another week perhaps the north as well. I am pleased by the even thickness you have applied with precision.'
'Pleased enough to begin the instruction?' Alodar asked. 'You said that for certain this night you would be unencumbered.'
Lectonil stopped and frowned. 'Another session with an acolyte,' he said with a wave of his hand. 'It was scheduled late this afternoon. Perhaps when the south wall is done, or better yet, when the north is completed as well.'
Alodar wiped his hands with an oily rag and dropped it to the ground. 'How can I be sure that in another two weeks time the answer will not be the same?' he asked slowly. 'I took you at your word when I entered the Guild, master, and did not question when you put me off for one excuse or another. But the delays have persisted for thirty days more. For three months now I have served in good faith, mucking the stables, digging trenches in the hard clay, and patching the walls with paint. It is time enough that you make good what you have promised. I give you the benefit of the doubt no longer.'
Lectonil's eyes narrowed and his voice tinged with hardness. 'You speak at great odds with your station, neophyte,' he said. 'And I will instruct you when it is a convenience to me, not when you happen to beckon.'
'It is knowledge of a specialized type that I seek,' Alodar said. 'The demands on your time would not be great.'
'No matter if it were but the number of beats in a dance of divergence,' Lectonil said. 'I would reveal it only when you deserved to know, be it in another two months or perhaps even two years hence. There is no cause to treat you differently from any other. You receive a fine bed and ample meals for your efforts. I doubt you would be rewarded as well for the same labor in the town at the foot of the mountain.'
'It is not for bread and board that I sought out the Guild,' Alodar said. 'It was the lure of magic that made me come. I explained quite clearly my aspirations when you interviewed me in the hut a quarter year ago. And as clearly, you did agree to aid in its achievement.'
'I understand full well your desires,' Lectonil snapped, 'but the frustrations you feel when they are not instantly fulfilled are your own struggle. They are not the concern of a master magician.'
'Then what of your word?' Alodar asked. 'One receives in kind what he deals out to others. If you do not honor the rights of a neophyte then how can you expect him to deal fairly with yours. It is a temptation of many, I would imagine, to seek by stealth what you will not give freely.'
'Do not speak of a magician's word to a mere neophyte,' Lectonil said, his eyes suddenly flaming. 'Such a concept has no meaning. And do not threaten what you cannot deliver. It will avail you no better than the pestering you are employing with increasing frequency.'
'It can avail me no worse,' Alodar growled back.
Lectonil started to reply, but then paused for a moment in thought. His brows furrowed, and he pulled his face into a grim smile. 'Yes, if it will stop your irritations, it is worth it,' he said at last. 'And the example would be most instructive to the others. If it is by stealth that you propose to learn the secrets of the Guild, then by all means I give you my leave. Whatever you can discover by your own devices is yours for the taking. Not a single fact will I begrudge; no retribution will be exacted. But be prepared to accept as well the consequences of your actions when you tamper with the safeguards that have protected those secrets for so long and so well. Mark you, you will fare far better with a paintbrush and awaiting instruction when it is my pleasure.'
Before Alodar could reply, the magician stomped back onto the walkway and disappeared into the night. Alodar waited motionless until he could hear footfalls no longer and then he exhaled slowly.
He smoothed the covercloth over his gear and then stood up abruptly. Lectonil had given him leave, permission to find out on his own whatever he could. He looked across the courtyard to the hall of the initiates and, in a flash, made up his mind.
Alodar spent the evening hours in hasty preparation. Near midnight he returned to the courtyard. The night air blew cool and clear as he walked the spacious grounds that were deserted by the workers of the day. His heels sounded sharply on the cobbled walk that ran in a long, gentle arc out from the hall of administration past the towering library and then to the gates of the magicians' private quarters.
Smaller pathways diverged gracefully from the main thoroughfare and led to other structures along the way. Except for the stadium, none was so grand in size as the hall of magicians, but each was worthy of any of Procolon's lords. Off to the left was the house of the wyverns and other exotic animals, a low stack of jutting terraces made as much of glass as of stone, and displaying for all the animate treasures within.
Further back and barely visible stood a cluster of small towers, each topped in unique fashion, some with crenelations and some with gently curving bands of silvery metal meeting at the apex. The space allotted each neophyte was small but still a finer appointment than any Alodar had known before.
To the immediate right was the square block of the initiates, white and windowless, but covered on all four walls with the deep gashes of immense calligraphy. Out of sight behind, lay the quarters of the acolytes, in back of them the cubicles of instruction, and beyond that the stadium of major rituals.
To the left stood the library, a tall slender pyramid covered with a mosaic of fiery red jewels, glowing of their own inner light. Four windows, tiny as viewed from the ground, covered each side near the apex; but for them, the walls were as unbroken as those of the hall of the initiates.
He looked back along the way he had come. The hall of administration covered fully half his view; unlike the beauty of the rest, it was a jumble of towers, blocks, and ramps. Brick butted against marble, graceful columns supported rough hewn beams, tiered archways of metal looked like scaffolding for new construction. The collage showed the haphazard growth of centuries as the Guild expanded and needed more space to provide for the increasing demands for self-sufficiency. Alodar had explored only a small fraction of the passageways inside but he had found a kitchen, a tannery, a carpenter's shop, a soap works, a small bath, and three testing rooms in which one demonstrated his qualifications for advancement in the Guild.
Alodar resumed his deliberate tread on the cobbled arc. These grounds could swallow the likes of Iron Fist a full ten times over, yet no solid wall ran along the periphery to protect what was within. Who would be foolish enough to brave the magical traps and delusions that served in their stead? Who indeed, he thought grimly, as he stood finally before the sealed doors of the hall of the initiates.
The vast grounds were empty and silent as Alodar stood before the portal. He took one breath and firmly pressed the small disk which glowed dully at his left, just as he had seen the initiates do during the day. Soundlessly, the smooth slab before him parted and revealed an alcove not much better lit than the starry sky.
Cautiously, he entered and the door slid shut behind him. Alodar turned as the air rustled with the closure but he saw no second disk to indicate his way back out He faced forward and advanced two small steps. Either side of the alcove was featureless, but the walls radiated away from him so that, some ten feet distant, he faced not one but four more doors.
A simple expedient, Alodar thought. Only one of the doors leads any farther. The other three probably are trapped and three out of four would-be intruders are disposed of without the use of magic.
Alodar approached the one on the far left, hinged and handled with gilt and covered with velvet, tufted with small stones of jet. He listened intently but could hear nothing and advanced to the second.
The next, unlike the first, was made of rough hewn beams, splintery to touch and with fixtures of crudely beaten iron. Alodar placed his ear gingerly against the surface. After a moment of deep concentration, he heard distant voices from the other side.
The third door was of stone, but with a giant blue steel bolt that held it firmly into the frame that contained it.
The last door gleamed of glass, smooth and cold to the touch and dimly reflecting Alodar's figure as he squinted through it. Deep black lay beyond, shadow on shadow, with no form.
He stepped back and pondered his choice. He did not know enough of the ritual and symbology to make the
