fellows.
'Make that two weeks,' Dalrioc amended. 'Each time this fish is disrespectful to me, I'll add another.'
Aeron fell silent. He could see where this was going.
'Now, I asked you to work a spell,' Dalrioc continued. 'I cannot believe that you have any worthwhile command of the art, but since you seem to think so, let's see you prove it.' He crossed his arms and offered an indulgent smile, but his eyes were cold and hard.
'Yes, my lord,' Aeron replied. He searched through his mind for a moment, seeking something appropriate. He was fleetingly tempted to lash out with fire hand or the charm of blindness simply to see how Dalrioc would react. Instead, he chose to work the charm of invisibility. With a whisper and a quick, skillful turn of the cool currents of the Weave around him, he vanished from sight.
The novices' eyes widened in surprise, but they held their tongues and waited motionlessly. Dalrioc, on the other hand, was visibly shocked. He mouthed a vile oath and scowled. 'You know the spell of invisibility?' he said, speaking in Aeron's direction.
'Yes,' Aeron answered. To illustrate the scope of his spell, he opened and closed one of the dresser's drawers. 'Fineghal, my old tutor, taught me the spell months ago.'
'Release it at once,' Dalrioc demanded.
Aeron did so, slowly fading back into view.
The older student glared at Aeron for a long moment, and then stomped out of the room. 'Remember-two weeks of chamber pots, and more if you don't get him squared away quickly!' he barked over his shoulder. He slammed the door shut behind him.
Melisanda, Baldon, and Eldran heaved sighs of relief. Aeron faced them. 'I'll take care of the chamber pots.'
'You'll do no such thing,' Melisanda retorted. 'If Dalrioc suspects that you carried out just one pot, he'd skin us alive for disobeying him. Do you understand me?'
Aeron nodded slowly. 'I do.'
Baldon dragged out the chair by the desk and straddled it, resignation on his face. 'Well, make yourself comfortable, Aeron. We've got a lot to tell you about the rules of the hall.'
'Before we start, I have a question. Why was he so surprised by the spell I chose?'
To Aeron's astonishment, all three novices laughed. 'Because Dalrioc can't work it himself,' Melisanda said. 'Illusions are his weakest school. If you already know how to weave a spell as advanced as that, you won't be a novice for long. He'll make your life miserable for a few weeks, but you'll be recognized as a student in no time at all.'
Seven
Aeron met the rest of his hallmates in the refectory that evening. Besides Melisanda, Baldon, and Eldran, there were eighteen more fish who shared his lowly status. Most were highborn Chessentans from all over the country, even a few from cities that were rivals or enemies of Cimbar, and a handful from other lands. By twos and threes, they drifted into the refectory, joining Aeron and his new friends at the table reserved for the novices of Sword Hall.
Somehow Melisanda and the two boys had found the time to quietly spread the news among the novices of Aeron's arrival and his moral victory over Dalrioc. From one end of the table to the other, he was greeted with broad smiles and easy jests. Aeron was beginning to understand that adversity builds fellowship; the twenty-one- now twenty-two-fish of Sword Hall were united against the ruthless tyranny imposed by the students.
'Well, he shouldn't have challenged me to prove myself without knowing a thing about me,' Aeron replied to their congratulations. He looked around discreetly; the masters dined at the high table, and long tables just below were reserved for the students of each of the four halls. Dalrioc held court among the Sword Hall students, laughing and conversing without a care in the world. From time to time, other students, and even a master or two, came over to speak with him. Apparently Dalrioc was a student of some importance. 'Why does everyone hover around him like that?' Alies asked Melisanda.
'He's a Corynian,' she said with a shrug.
Aeron frowned, trying to understand the significance of that statement. Then it struck him. The Corynians ruled the wealthy city of Soorenar, one of the principal rivals of Cimbar. Born to one of the highest families in Chessenta, and he's no better than I, Aeron thought. So much for nobility. He allowed himself a moment to revel in his minor victory over Dalrioc Corynian before returning his attention to his surroundings. 'I thought Soorenar fought against Cimbar and was defeated,' he said slowly. 'If he's a prince of a beaten city, why's he so important?'
His highborn hallmates stared long enough for Aeron's face to flush red. Melisanda eventually took pity on him. 'Do you know anything of the alliances of the land, Aeron?' she asked quietly.
'I've never had cause to concern myself with such matters.' In rustic Maerchlin, the great alliances and intrigues had seemed a thousand miles distant. A peasant or lowborn freeholder such as Aeron was so far removed from the affairs of lords and kings that it was useless to waste thought on the matter, but here things were far different.
'Think on it, Aeron,' Melisanda said, lowering her voice. 'Which cities lead Chessenta today?'
'Cimbar and Akanax, of course. Their alliance defeated Soorenar and Luthcheq. They're the only strong cities left.'
'And with no foes to ally against, what is there to bind them together?'
'Nothing, I suppose. But what does this have to do with Dalrioc of Soorenar? His city was Cimbar's rival before the Time of Troubles, but it's been ruined by Akanax.'
'You forget that Soorenar was always a wealthy city,' Baldon interjected. 'Its might is in the coffers of its merchants, not its strength of arms. The Corynians have rebuilt the city very quickly.'
'The alliance between Akanax and Cimbar is a thing of the past. And the fragile truce that exists now might be blown away by a strong wind. Now do you understand?' Melisanda said.
Aeron's head swam. So Cimbar as a city-state teetered precariously between one rival-Akanax-and one enemy-Soorenar-just as the Sceptanar himself faced the opposition of the city's demagogues and the censure of the noble senate. He nodded slowly, his eyes on Dalrioc. 'Akanax and Cimbar balance in the scales. A resurgent Soorenar might tip them. And so Dalrioc holds court in Cimbar's College of Mages.' Aeron grimaced; he couldn't have picked a more powerful enemy if he had tried.
He methodically attacked his food for a time, mindful of his common manners. The novices ate at trestle tables at the end of refectory. The students shared smaller tables in the center of the room, and beyond the tables held by the students stood the high table of the hall, where the masters ate. Aeron counted twenty-six seats at the head of the hall, but only about half were occupied. While he watched, a master in a yellow robe paused by the table of the Sword Hall students to speak with Dalrioc. 'So if Dalrioc is here to entertain offers of alliance against Akanax,' Aeron said, 'why isn't he guesting in the palace of the Sceptanar?'
'Because the Sceptanar wants no part of the Corynians or Soorenar,' Eldran replied, a little too loudly. 'As soon as Soorenar chooses a side, Akanax will be forced to find other allies like Mordulkin or Airspur, and that means war all across Chessenta. But Cimbar's senators, and even some of the demagogues, disagree with the Sceptanar's stance. There's talk that the Sceptanar won't hold his seat for long.' The black looks he received from his neighbors embarrassed the enthusiastic apprentice into a self-conscious silence. Flushing, he shifted in his seat and leaned closer to Aeron, lowering his voice. 'Or so it's said, anyway. Some of the masters belong to parties opposed to the Sceptanar,' he continued. 'If they overthrow Cimbar's king, who knows what might happen?'
Factions opposed to the Sceptanar? Foreign intrigue? Wizards shifting from party to party like children picking sides for a game of hide-and-seek? Wizardry seemed simple by comparison! Aeron chewed slowly, thinking. 'How does anything get done?'
'In the college, the Sceptanar's men decide the issues. The senators and the demagogues oppose each other, so Lord Telemachon and the other masters who support Cimbar's king throw their weight from one side to the other,' said Melisanda. 'Most of the students are noble-born, and they choose sides as well.'
'Which masters belong to which factions?'
