"I knew Fineghal a long, long time ago," Telemachon mused. "My studies led me to his doorstep more than forty years ago. Is he well?"
"I haven't seen him in three months, but the last time we parted, he was in good health," Aeron said.
"Good," grunted Telemachon. He faced the door and raised his voice slightly. "Corden!"
The door cracked. 'Yes, Lord Telemachon?"
"Bring Melisanda here, please." Telemachon turned back to Aeron as the guard disappeared. He paced ponderously back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. "Fineghal's taught other students before you, Aeron," he said. "I've never known him to send an apprentice on to study elsewhere. He finishes what he begins."
Aeron shifted nervously. "I wanted to learn more than he was willing to teach."
"Oh?" The master glanced at him. "Very well. I don't set much store by what you may or may not have done before you walked through that door. That includes any learning or skill with the art you may think you already possess." He held up the parchment. "Fineghal says that you must be instructed, and he cannot do it himself. For his sake, I will allow you to remain here as a student."
Aeron let a breath of relief escape from his lips.
"Don't relax just yet, Aeron. I have no idea who you are, what you know, or what you may be capable of learning. Without Fineghal's letter, you would not be a potential student. And without his offer to compensate me for your tuition, you would not be allowed to remain."
"Tuition?"
Telemachon smiled humorlessly. "It is not insignificant. But I will sponsor you, since Fineghal asks it of me."
There was a knock at the door, and a delicate Vilhonese woman about Aeron's age entered. She was short and slight, with dark eyes and a heart-shaped face. Aeron was reminded of his woodsman's garb and lack of formal learning; the girl's graceful carriage, sophisticated features, and studious expression marked her as a lady unlike any Aeron had ever known. "Melisanda of Arrabar, Master Telemachon. You sent for me?"
"Ah, Melisanda. This is Aeron Morieth, a new student from Maerchlin. You are excused from your studies for the rest of the day; show Aeron the college grounds and get him settled in, if you please."
The girl glanced at Aeron without expression. "As you wish, Master Telemachon."
The old master inclined his head to Aeron. "I expect I shall see you in a day or two in class; I am the High Diviner, and you must begin with the basics of my art." He returned to his writing desk, sighing as he sat down. Melisanda caught Aeron's attention and nodded at the door, but before they left, Telemachon held up his hand. "One last thing, Aeron. I am your sponsor, so I shall be keeping a close eye on you. I advise you to devote yourself completely to your studies. More than a few students allow themselves to become . . . distracted here. You would be wise to avoid their example."
As Telemachon requested, Melisanda led Aeron to each of the buildings within the college walls, explaining each in a smooth voice with just a hint of a throaty Reach accent. Of course, the College of Mages was only a small portion of Cimbar's great university, but Aeron had already observed that the common scribes and artists who studied in the whitewashed acropolis below did not intrude upon the affairs of the wizards in their lofty perch overlooking the city. Slaves, serfs, and commoners of all descriptions might win a place in the university by virtue of talent and patronage, but the wizards' school was evidently reserved for the noble-born. Aeron didn't need Melisanda's wary glances to figure out that the college was a place of his betters. We'll see about that, he promised himself.
Melisanda started the tour with the Masters' Hall as soon as they left Telemachon's chambers. The northern half housed the college's council rooms, administrators, and the private studies of the masters. "You won't spend much time here until you're a student, fish," she remarked.
"I'm not a student now?" Aeron asked in surprise.
"Of course not. You're a novice-a 'fish,' as we're called. Once you've shown a command of each of the eight disciplines in the novitiate examination, you are allowed to wear the student's tabard and cap." She looked him over and smiled. "I don't suppose you have any idea of what the disciplines are, do you?"
"Abjuration, alteration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, illusion, invocation, and necromancy, Lady Melisanda," Aeron replied. "I know them better by their elven names."
Melisanda raised an eyebrow. "I see you have some learning already. And you don't have to call me 'lady' All novices are equals in the college. You should defer to a student-they're the ones who wear the tabards and caps over their tunics. 'Lady' or 'sir' is appropriate for them. And, of course, show deference to any of the masters. They dress as Telemachon does, although in different colors depending on the discipline they favor."
"I noticed that Telemachon and another master wore hoods," Aeron said. "What does that mean?"
"The hood marks Telemachon as one of the Ruling Council, the High Diviner. The highest master in each discipline sits on the council. I don't know who introduced you to him, but he knew who to talk to. Any one of the High Masters can sponsor new novices just by saying so." She gazed at Aeron in frank appraisal. Aeron shifted his feet nervously. After a long moment, she released him with a curt nod. "Well, come on, fish. I can't afford to spend all day leading you about."
"How many masters, students, and novices are there?"
Melisanda frowned, counting in her mind. "There are nine masters on the Ruling Council, plus another nineteen masters who don't sit on the council. Memorize their names and faces as soon as possible. There are forty-one students right now, and eighty-seven novices. Eighty-eight now, including you."
"Not every novice succeeds in becoming a student?"
"No. About half of the novices can't pass the novitiate examination." She grimaced. "My own examination is scheduled for three weeks from today. I'd hoped to spend the day studying for it. I'm still uncertain of the invocation and necromancy spells I intend to cast."
Leaving the Masters' Hall, Melisanda led Aeron into the open plaza in the center of the college. Over the next hour, she showed him the East and West Halls and the great library in the center of the square. East and West were the college's instruction buildings, filled with classrooms, lecture halls, meeting rooms, and laboratories; since it was now the middle of the afternoon, many of these rooms were in use. Melisanda didn't interrupt any classes or lectures to introduce Aeron, but she quietly pointed out any masters they encountered.
By the time they left West Hall, the blustering wind had increased to gale force, and the temperature had dropped precipitously. They hurried into the last of the college's five buildings, a plain building pitted by row after row of narrow slitlike windows. "The Students' Hall," Melisanda said. "This is your home for as long as you stay here."
The foyer resembled the entrance of the Masters' Hall, but it seemed plainer and brighter. The masters' building was steeped in an air of dignity and reserve, a weight of tradition that brooked no insolence. But the moment Aeron and Melisanda stepped inside the students' quarters, they were nearly bowled over by a pair of novices bounding through the hall, attempting to tag each other with small spheres of colored light-a magician's game of tag.
Aeron caught Melisanda by the arm and dragged her out of the path of a novice. "Is everyone this enthusiastic?"
Melisanda sniffed. "No. Baldon and Eldran appear to have suddenly lost their reason, that's all."
The taller lad was a freckle-faced boy several years younger than Aeron, with an unruly shock of red hair on top of his head. Panting, he skidded to a halt. "Hey, Eldran, look-a new fish! What's your name, fish?"