"I've never seen him single out a fish the way he's watching you, Aeron," Melisanda told him. "Dalrioc even arranges for other students to keep an eye on you when he has to attend a lecture or do some research."
"It's working," Aeron said bitterly. "Sooner or later I'm going to lose my temper, and then he'll really have me."
Melisanda offered a sympathetic smile. "You're something completely antithetical to what he believes about the world: a commoner who is better than he."
"I might be a better mage, Melisanda, but I don't have his wealth or his power. Why does he resent me?"
"Because Dalrioc Corynian is accustomed to being the best at whatever he turns his hand to. It's how he was raised." She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Be patient. You're as ready for a novitiate examination as I am, and once you become a student, he can't touch you."
The door thumped loudly, and Dalrioc's clear voice rang outside. "Out in the hall, fish!"
"Guess he got bored," Aeron muttered. Melisanda rolled her eyes and stood. They filed out and found Dalrioc waiting in the dark, gleaming hallway, arms crossed over his chest. He smirked with anticipation.
"Aeron, it seems that you spend a good deal of time in Melisanda's rooms," he observed. "Don't you realize that she is quite above your station?"
Aeron flushed. Dalrioc's remark cut too close to the truth. "I was helping her study," he replied.
"Ah! Well, since you have time on your hands to help your hallmates, I am certain that you won't mind running a small errand for me." Dalrioc stepped closer and sharpened his gaze. "I require a stone from the Broken Pyramid."
The Broken Pyramid? Aeron looked up. The ruins of the Untheric obelisk were avoided by all but the masters. Many precious artifacts-and sleeping dangers-were said to be lost in the blasted rubble and the catacombs beneath, but the word among the novices was to give it a wide berth. Aeron swallowed and asked, "What manner of stone?"
"About this large," the prince said, using his hands to measure an imaginary rock about the size of his two fists together. "Any one should do."
"Lord Dalrioc, the ruins of the pyramid are dangerous," Melisanda said. "Can Aeron do this in the morning?"
Dalrioc raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid that I have an immediate need for a stone in a spell I am studying. You are not a student yet, Melisanda. Do not presume to tell me how and when I should conduct my studies." He ran his eyes up and down her body, then added, "Since you are concerned for Aeron, you may join him. I don't expect you'll need a cloak if you hurry."
Melisanda glared back at the prince but held her silence. Not daring to protest any further, the two fish hurried outside into the howling night. The air was so cold that it took Aeron's breath away; on the exposed hillside, the wind scoured them with a stinging spray of needlelike ice. "Sorry I got you into this!" Aeron gasped, shouting to be heard over the wind.
"I shouldn't have opened my mouth," the girl replied. "Let's get his damned rock and get back inside. It's freezing out here!"
The sky was overcast, and the hilltop was dark. Once they left the warm yellow circle of light spilling from the windows of the Students' Hall, they could barely see their hands in front of their faces. "You know he's going to send us back at least three or four times before he gets tired of this game," Melisanda barked.
"I know. Might as well get it over with." Aeron blundered toward the skirt of rubble that surrounded the monolith, visible only as an ebon shadow in the darkness. Even with his keen elven vision, he could scarcely make out where they were going. He stumbled over some unseen obstacle on the ground and fell to his hands and knees. "Ouch! Wait a moment, Melisanda. I'll make some light."
Her teeth chattered from somewhere nearby. "Good idea. I can't see a thing."
Stone grated on stone in the darkness. A rasping growl cut through the wind's howling from somewhere ahead. Aeron suddenly felt colder, as if a ghostly hand had brushed his heart with an icy touch. He slowly rose, peering into the night. "Melisanda? What was that sound?"
Her voice was startlingly near. "I don't know. You'd better summon your light," she whispered.
Aeron nodded. He started to weave the spell, but he heard the sound of a man's voice. Something slid in the rubble. Then the sensation of magic at work tugged at Aeron's body, the powerful and desperate jolt of a mighty spell worked in haste.
Ahead of them, a brilliant flash of ruby light speared through the night, illuminating the scene. Kneeling in the apron of debris at the tower's foot, a brown-robed master with a dun hood confronted an awful beast, a doglike thing the size of a small horse. Its mouth gaped open with a double row of teeth, one set vertically across its nightmarish maw. The master's spell launched a lance of energy at the creature, a fiery bolt searing Aeron's eyes and charring stone, but the flame splashed from the beast's flanks harmlessly. As the brief flare of light died away, the creature crouched and leapt with impossible speed. The master's scream rang through the darkness as night cloaked the scene again.
"Aeron! Your light!" cried Melisanda.
Abandoning subtlety, Aeron barked the brief syllables of the dweomer. With his hands, he wove a bobbing sphere of wizard light and cast it into the air, to hover a few feet ahead of them. A globe of eerie blue radiance brightened the night. Aeron shuddered in horror; the dog-thing had the master in its jaws, splintering bone and rending flesh. The dying man groaned and wheezed, pushing weakly at the creature's black snout.
"By the gods," Aeron murmured. Although every bone in his body ached with the desire to flee, he forced himself forward two steps and raised his hands, considering which of the spells at his command to employ. As he watched the scene in sick horror, he noticed an odd metallic gleam on the creature's foreleg. A strange silver band graven with twisted runes was clasped to its dark flesh. He pushed the odd bracelet to the back of his mind and started to speak the words for fire hand. He had to do something, even though it was clear that nothing could aid the master.
Melisanda caught his arm and dragged him back. "No, Aeron! It's too late for him."
"We've got to help him somehow!"
The Vilhonese girl shook her head. "It wasn't even fazed by the best spell a master could throw. The only thing we could do is get killed. Come on! We'll get help!"
Numbly, he nodded assent. They backed away quickly, stumbling across the loose stones of the tower's wreckage. Aeron could not wrench his eyes away from the terrible scene before him; the creature was tearing the master to pieces. "What in Faerun is that thing?" he stammered.
"I have no idea. But I recognize the master. That's Raemon, the High Master of Abjuration."
"Not anymore," Aeron gasped. Suddenly he tripped over an unseen stone beneath his feet and fell heavily. Rubble grated and clattered over the bitter shrieking of the wind. He scrambled to his feet, bruised and a little embarrassed, but the monster's great head swiveled from its grisly work, two small, squarish ears quivering and twitching, its nostrils flaring. It doesn't have any eyes, he noted in surprise. Then he realized that the creature could hear quite well. It sniffed and took a tentative step toward them.
"Aeron," Melisanda whispered. "It's got our scent."
"Be quiet. It can't see us," he said softly. The bitter wind gusted, wracking him with cold, and he realized that the howling gale was the only thing standing between the two of them and an unpleasant death. They were downwind of the creature, and even with its unnaturally acute senses, it could barely make them out. Aeron stood slowly, trying not to jostle the loose rubble any more than he already had, but small stones clicked and scraped beneath his feet.