Chapter 2 Part 2

When morning came, a single note sounded repeatedly as a lone individual marched up and down the hallway ringing a hand bell announced it. Dylan rolled over and sat up on his cot. His legs were still covered by his blanket and rubbed his eyes sleepily. Cindy rolled out of her cot and opened the chest at its head. She took a fresh tunic and put her sandals on her feet. Dylan noted that Mally and Roger were doing the same thing. Following their example, he did likewise.

As the others left the room, Dylan followed. In the hall, Dylan saw a multitude of initiates all making wearily for the end of the hall. There they segregated themselves by gender and entered the appropriate washroom. Dylan followed the other boys.

There was little talk at first, and most of the occupants made use of a long trough of fresh water fed by a pipe in the wall. They disrobed and splashed the water on their bodies with shallow dippers. Then they rubbed themselves down with soap and repeated the rinsing action. The water and suds were carried away through holes in the stone floor.

Dylan observed for a few moments then, when the crowd thinned out, he too bathed. There seemed to be no modesty as the boys all moved about naked in their various states of puberty.

Some of the older boys took minor joy in teasing each other about the size and maturity or lack thereof of their privates. It was of course all in good humor and was nothing that Dylan had not heard from the field hands bathing in the creek back on the farm.

After washing, Dylan returned to the outer part of the washroom. There were still many boys sitting on the rows of benches, talking and laughing. The bath seemed to awaken most of the inhabitants sufficiently for conversations to begin.

Dylan sat naked on the bench just as the other boys were. He immediately noticed the soft warm breeze drifting through the room.

"You're new aren't you?" a thin young man about Roger's height and age sat next to him. His voice was deep and pleasant.

Dylan replied in his boyish soprano. "Yes," he answered quietly. "Today’s my first day after the Rite of Meditation."

"Who’s your master?"

"I’m here to learn from Master Tesron," Dylan answered. For some reason it never seemed comfortable to acknowledge someone as his master. He did not consider himself a slave.

"Master Tesron’s an excellent teacher," the older boy agreed. "He's my master too." He stuck out his hand in greeting. "My name's Robert," he introduced himself. "And you must be Dillan."

"Dylan," Dylan corrected. "How'd you know?"

"I'm the senior initiate," Robert claimed. He held up his bundle. It was his red tunic, rolled tightly and tied with a belt rope.

Dylan looked embarrassed at his own bundle. The tunic was wrinkled and balled up. He glanced back at Robert and was about to apologize when the older boy smiled warmly.

"Here," Robert took the balled mess. "Let me show you how." Robert spread Dylan's new tunic out on the bench and then flattened it out. "First fold the sides in so that they meet in the middle. Then begin at the top and fold it in half. Then start at the fold and roll it up like this." He then took Dylan's rope and looped it about the roll twice and then tied it tightly.
"Tie it tightly and it won't come loose. It also won't wrinkle," he said. He inspected the rope and the knots at the ends. He nodded satisfied. "Who taught you our knots?" he asked.

"I share a room with Cindy," Dylan answered. "She told me about them and I think she tied those."

Robert smiled. "Cindy's very quick and smart," he appraise. "She'll make a fine alchemist."

"I like her too," Dylan agreed. "It was very nice of her to show me around yesterday afternoon."

Robert stood and rubbed a hand across his backside. "I'm dry enough," he decided, and unrolled his tunic and began to dress himself.

Dylan mimicked the older boy's actions. "How does the warm breeze get in here?" he asked.

"There's a fan that blows air through a metal pipe that leads from the furnace," Robert told him. "It will be warm even in the winter."

"That'll be nice," Dylan decided.

Robert finished dressing by tying his rope around his waist. Dylan noted that all the other boys gave Robert plenty of room. "Well," the senior initiate addressed his charge, "let's get you back to your room so that you can make your bed. Then I'll show you where you'll be working today."

"What kind of work will I be doing?" Dylan asked.

Robert led Dylan from the washroom back into the crowded hallway. They each carried their old tunics. "Well until you learn to read and perform mathematics, your work will probably be menial. But as soon as you learn enough, I or whoever Master Tesron chooses to replace me will see to it that you're placed in an inventory team. That way you can begin to learn your father's trade before you finish here at the Academy."

Dylan nodded absently until it dawned on him that Robert knew an awful lot about him. He glanced up suspiciously, an action that the red tunic initiate did not miss. Robert just laughed. "Master Tesron feels that it's very wise to assign duties to each initiate that can teach him about his future profession."

"That's an awfully good idea," Dylan agreed. "Did he tell you what my father did?"

"No, Gage did."

Dylan opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately a large hand fell on his shoulder and hurled him roughly towards the window. Dylan tripped over his own feet and fell on the floor.

"Make yourself useful, new boy," Roger's harsh voice flailed down at him. "Make my bed, and be quick about it."

"Leave him alone, Roger," Cindy screeched as she hurried over to help Dylan up.

"Your actions will betray you one of these days, Roger," Mally warned from her cot.

"Shut up, both of you," Roger demanded. "I'm the senior initiate in this room and what I say goes."

Dylan turned around to face Roger, his small hands clenched. Cindy, who was already facing Roger suddenly spun and turned her back to the bully. She stood in front of Dylan and when he looked at her face, he could see that she was trying to stifle a laugh.

Curious, Dylan looked past her. There stood Roger all puffed up daring anyone to defy his authority, and right behind him, silently waiting was Robert, observing the whole affair. It was all too obvious that Roger was unaware of the additional audience. Dylan also noted that from her vantage point, Mally too could not see Robert.

"I don't recall promising to serve you," Dylan told the bully. "And I think that I should give you fair warning that our senior initiate will be coming to get me soon," he added. A twitch in Cindy's face indicated that she approved of that last statement.

"If you think I'm afraid of that red tunic son of a carpenter, Robert, you'd better think again," Roger sneered. "So I would advise that you get started in making that bed right now before I have to loosen a couple of teeth."

"But if I make your bed, and Robert sees me doing it, he'll ask me why," Dylan countered.

"Then you'll just have to tell him that you and I're such good friends that you wanted to do it for me," Roger advised through a clenched jaw.

"Are we friends?" Dylan asked.

"Not on your life," Roger snapped. "I'm going to make your life miserable, and if you tell Robert or that dog faced apprentice, Kayla, I'll break both your legs and make it look like an accident."

"I don't think so," Robert muttered pushing his way past Roger. He entered the room and herded Cindy and Dylan towards their cots. Mally made no motion or even any hint that she was aware of the red clad initiate's presence.

Roger's eyes went wide momentarily then narrowed. "So here he is," he drawled out attempting to regain his composure. "Well, Robert, are you here to pick up your new little warts."

Dylan tensed up. He had had about enough of the taunting. If he was going to get pounded, he wanted to at least get a good lick or two in.

Cindy's hand caught his arm gently. Ever so slightly she shook her head urging him not to act.

"You're out of your authority here," Roger claimed as he taunted Robert. "What goes on in this room is none of your business. And I'm not required to answer to you outside of this room either."

"You're mistaken," Robert disagreed. "What happens to my juniors is my business, regardless of where they are."

Roger stepped forward boldly. He rather forcefully pointed his finger at Robert's chest and shoved. Robert wavered, but stood his ground.

"What," Roger goaded, "aren't you man enough to stand up for yourself?"

"Fighting is forbidden on the Academy grounds," Robert reminded his antagonist. "But, if you really want to fight, I'll be glad to accommodate you off the grounds."

Roger smiled. "So you’re a coward. You fear to risk a little slap on the wrist to prove yourself." With that he put both hands against Robert's chest and shoved hard. Robert stepped back involuntarily and almost fell, but the wall prevented it.

"What do you say to fighting me now?" Roger demanded. He was even more forceful now that it was evident that Robert did not want to fight. "I can afford to be a little late to work," Roger growled as he stepped forward.

"I'm afraid that you'll be much more than a little late for work," Kayla announced as she entered the room. Dylan noted that Mally sat upright and became attentive at the apprentice's appearance.

"Robert," Gage addressed the senior initiate as he followed Kayla into the room. "Would you be so kind as to inform Roger's task leader that he will not be at work today, nor is he likely to be in the Academy after this little display of belligerence."

Roger's jaw dropped. He glared at everyone in the room then hung his head and ignored the world in general.

Kayla turned to Dylan, Mally and Cindy. "Would you three please excuse us?" She nodded to Robert. "You may as well take Dylan with you," she told him. "Gage and I wish to speak to Roger for a moment, then we'll escort him to his master."

Robert nodded and motioned for Cindy, Mally and Dylan to follow him. When they were in the hallway, Mally and Cindy left to go to their respective chores. Cindy waved cheerfully as she departed.

"That was certainly a scene," Robert said with a grin.

"I thought he was going to sock you one," Dylan admitted.

"He might've tried, but Kayla and Gage were standing outside the door almost from the very start. They only needed to wait until Roger stepped over the line by shoving me and trying to pick a fight. Then they could step in. Most likely you'll have one less roommate by night fall."

"To be honest with you," Robert mused, "I half expected Kayla to turn him into a toad when he called her a 'dog faced apprentice'."

"Could she do that?" Dylan gasped in awe.

"No," Robert laughed. "After all, she's only an apprentice." Robert paused to think. "Now Gage might could, though."

"Well, Kayla isn't dog faced. Actually," Dylan mused, "I think Kayla is kind of pretty."
Robert laughed aloud. He scrubbed his knuckles across Dylan's head. "Come on," he urged. "Let's get you to work."

Robert led Dylan to a long hall in one of the other large buildings. When he opened the door, Dylan caught the faint scent of old leather and ink. Inside the large room were long rows of thousands of books.

A man dressed in the black robe of a master approached. About his waist was a gold sash with shiny brass clasps on the ends. The lining of his robe was yellow. "Good morning, Robert," he offered as he drew near the two boys. "Who've you got with you?"

"Good morning, Master Jolian," Robert returned the greeting. "This is Dylan," he introduced, "Master Tesron's newest initiate. He'll be assisting you today since Brently's sick."

"Oh?" the master seemed surprised. "Is it serious?"

"I don't think so," Robert laughed. "Brently's a tough lad physically, but when it comes to a touch of the cold, he curls up like a little baby."

"I can imagine that," Jolian chuckled. "Well, boy," he addressed Dylan. "I guess you can help by cleaning off the shelves and oiling the leather bound volumes."

"Robert," Jolian instructed, "Walter's back there somewhere. Would you please escort this fine young man to the task leader?"

"Yes, Master Jolian." Robert motioned for Dylan to follow and then headed off between to shelves of books.

"What kind of mage is he?" Dylan asked his leader. "I don't recall being told what the yellow trim of the robes represent."

"Master Jolian isn't a mage," Robert told him as he turned a corner and stopped. Robert listened carefully for a moment until he heard a faint noise indicating where the object of his search may dwell. Then he selected another aisle and followed it. "He's a sage. They specialize in the keeping and categorization of knowledge. It may not be a glorified profession, but among the more learned arts, it's a highly honorable one and sages are generally held in very high regard."

“I also noticed that Master Tesron wears blue trim and Gage wears red trim and I even saw someone yesterday with green trim,” Dylan observed.

“That’s right,” Robert answered the unspoken question. “The red trim is worn by wizards, the blue is worn by sorcerers and the green is worn by warlocks.”

Dylan nodded. He was about to inquire further when a sound ahead of him interrupted his question. Robert led Dylan to a group of initiates who were gathered around an older imitate wearing a green tunic.

"Knowledge may be passed from one person to another verbally," the boy was saying as he carefully leafed through a string bound tome. "But, word of mouth can often be changed unintentionally. By writing knowledge down, we preserve it for the future in its original form. Properly recorded knowledge endures long after the author has passed away."

The boy, a task leader, closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. When he stood, Dylan saw that he had a heavy rag of some soft material that he was gently wiping across the surfaces of each and every book he picked up.

"How very prophetic," Robert interrupted.

"Good morning, Robert," the task leader replied. His eyes shifted briefly as he noted Dylan's presence. "Brently didn't arrive on his own this morning. Can I assume that he's not coming?"

"Yep," Robert said standing aside. "This is Dylan, my master's newest initiate. He'll be substituting for Brently this morning."

Walter, the task leader, studied him for a moment. "He's kinda short isn't he?"

"That'll give you someone to work the lower shelves without having to bend over," Robert grinned.

Walter returned the grin and extended his hand. "Okay, Dylan, welcome to the team, at least for today."

When Robert left, Walter directed Dylan to a long bookshelf covered in a fine layer of dust. "Unfortunately," Walter began, "there are so many books here and so few of us that it takes almost a full year of working to get back to the same book."

Walter plucked a tome from the shelf. "Most of the books are leather bound," he explained. "The best thing we can do for them is to oil them down to keep the leather from drying out or mildewing. The scrolls," he nodded to a shelf several rows over, "are even more difficult to care for. We do our best by storing them in canisters along with a talc powder designed to keep them dry and prevent the rolls of parchment from rubbing against each other."

Walter demonstrated what he wanted Dylan to do, and then tuned the detail over to the junior worker. Dylan found himself removing large quantities of books from the shelves. He could not read so he did not know what they were about, but he could count, at least up to one hundred, and the number of books he removed from the shelves, dusted, oiled down and checked for torn pages far exceeded the scope of his counting ability. In spite of his efforts, the sheer volume of records in the building was of such a magnitude, that when it came time for them to all go and eat, Dylan could not see where he had made any appreciable progress.

Walter, on the other hand, apparently had been at his job for some time, for though Dylan could not see the results of his efforts, Walter nodded approvingly several times during the morning hours. "Well done," he said on one occasion as he walked by the shelf Dylan was working on.

It was near midday when Robert returned for him. Dylan almost wished that the senior initiate had waited a little longer as he had almost completed a full shelf when the older boy arrived.

"That's quite a bit of work," Robert appraised the results of Dylan’s labors. "Don't worry, the next shift will finish it up for you."

"You mean that there are people who do this after we quit?" Dylan asked as Walter approached.

"That's right," Robert told him. "Some of the initiates work in the afternoon and study in the morning. You'll be working in the morning and studying in the afternoon with Cindy, your roommate."

Robert led Dylan back towards his room. Dylan noted that the older boy's hands were dirty. "What kind of work did you do?"

Robert blushed a slightly. "Garbage," he answered.

Dylan frowned, puzzled. "It seems to me that if you assigned the duties, you'd at least give yourself something less disgusting."

"I'm afraid that I wasn't given choice about this," Robert admitted. "The garbage detail was Roger's. According to the rules, when I turned Roger in for disciplinary action, I had to cover for him."

"That's a stupid rule," Dylan observed.

"Really?" Robert sounded surprised. "Did you know that I was thinking the same thing less than two hours ago?"

"Then why don't they do something about it?"

Robert sighed. "The rule is that way for a very good reason," he explained. "If it weren't, I might be more inclined to report many incidents to the masters that aren't really that important. By making the senior initiates replace those who are dismissed for disciplinary action, the masters discourage the misuse of our power."

"So making you do the garbage is to keep you from abusing your authority?" Dylan asked.

Robert smiled. "Something like that."

"Does it work?"

Robert chuckled. "Well I certainly don't think I'll try to get anyone else expelled in the near future."

"I guess it does work," Dylan concluded. "How long will you have to do the garbage?"

"Until another initiate gets into trouble," Robert laughed and poked playfully at Dylan, “so you'd better behave."

Robert left Dylan at his room with instructions to clean up and make himself ready for his tutor, Kayla. "She'll come by and get you and Cindy in less than half an hour, so be ready."

Dylan took a clean cloth from his room and went to the shower where he washed his face and hands thoroughly. When he returned to the room, Cindy was waiting for him. She was brushing her hair and Dylan caught the scent of fresh bread as he entered the room.

"Have you been baking bread?" he asked.

"All morning long," Cindy answered.

"You smell good," he offered innocently. He realized how it sounded as soon as he said it, but Cindy only laughed.

"Not if you had to smell it all day," she told him.

There was a knock on the door which opened to reveal Kayla standing in the entrance. She was smiling and for a brief moment her eyes half closed dreamily. "Mmmm," she murmered. "You've been baking bread today, haven't you Cindy?"

"Yes, Kayla," she answered with a sigh.

"I always like teaching you on bread day." She nodded as she appraised Dylan. "Well, sport," she reached out and patted his shoulder. "Are you ready to begin?"

"I'm ready," Dylan answered.

"Let's go then," she stepped aside and ushered her charges out of the room. Cindy, having long gotten used to the routine, led the way to the main floor of the Academy. With Dylan in tow, and Kayla following closely, Cindy wound her way deeper into the bowls of the great complex.

Near the end of one corridor, Cindy paused at a large wooden door. Kayla joined her and Dylan stood to one side. The apprentice removed a key from her robe and unlocked the door. "These are Master Tesron's facilities," Kayla informed her new pupil. There are three laboratories and six smaller study rooms plus a small library containing specialized books and scrolls dealing with Master Tesron's particular specializations."

"We study in here," Cindy said grasping Dylan by the hand and pulling him into one of the study rooms.

Dylan sat at a table with three chairs. Next to him sat Kayla and next to her sat Cindy. There were several books and a pair of black slates with accompanying chalk. Kayla selected a book and passed it to Cindy. "Cindy," she instructed the girl, "I want you to read this chapter. While you're doing that, I'll start working with Dylan on teaching him to read and write."

Cindy frowned, but took the book. Then Kayla took one of the slates and a piece of chalk. "Lets start by learning the letters of the alphabet and what sounds they make," she suggested to Dylan.

Dylan's first day of lessons went quickly. He learned about vowels and the sounds that they made under different circumstances. Kayla also taught him to write those letters and made him practice them to some length while she instructed Cindy.

Cindy's oral reading, though discontinuous, was none the less quite understandable and Dylan was suitably impressed. By the end of the lessons, Dylan's writing had sufficiently improved so that the letters could be easily recognized.

The sunlight shining in through the skylight at the top of the wall had turned a deep golden as sunset approached when Kayla finally called a halt to the lessons. She dismissed Cindy and Dylan indicating that the rest of the day was at their pleasure. "Just be sure to be on time for chores tomorrow morning," she urged.

"Will Robert come by like he did this morning?" Dylan asked. "I was told that I was only filling in for a sick initiate this morning."

"I'm told that Brently’s very ill and won't be back to that task for at least a week," Kayla explained. "So until you hear differently, assume that you are to keep the same task."

Cindy and Dylan walked quickly back to their room. Cindy flopped down on her bed and kicked her shoes off. She lay back and propped her feet up on the adjacent wall. Her tunic lifted up noticeably and revealed her undergarment. Dylan averted his eyes bashfully.
After a couple of long moments of quiet, Cindy had a brainstorm. "Let's go eat," she suggested.

Dylan considered the suggestion and quickly concluded that it was an awfully good idea. "Okay," he agreed.

Cindy led the way to the dining hall. She entered the line and Dylan fell in behind her. He took a tray mimicking Cindy's actions and selected a steaming bowl of stew from the buffet. When they reached the bread, Dylan saw Cindy make a motion to the attendant. The initiate behind the counter reached into a large basket and drew forth a fresh roll and passed it to her.

Dylan watched and when Cindy vacated the position, he took her place. The attendant behind the counter ignored him completely and Dylan settled for selecting a soft but other wise cold roll from the counter.

Dylan followed his roommate to a table where he sat on the bench next to her. "How'd you get that initiate to give you fresh bread?" he asked.

"There are a lot of things that go on around here that you just sort of have to learn," she replied. "One of those things is that people who work together tend to help each other out. That initiate was Theo, one of Master Farell's students. He works in the bakery in the afternoon. So he let me get something fresh from the oven."

"Is that really fair?" Dylan tore his roll in two. It was not quite as tough as leather, but it wasn't far from it.

"Well," Cindy explained, "when you get your permanent assignment, you and your co-workers will do the same thing. I guess as long as everyone does it and no one gets left out, then it's fair."

Dylan frowned and Cindy laughed. "I know," she consoled his puzzlement. "I asked the same thing when I first got here. Gage told me that in addition to being fairly harmless, it taught us to make use of our resources."

After they had eaten, Cindy coaxed Dylan out into the courtyard, the large garden that existed in the midst of the various buildings of the Academy. Dozens of masters, journeymen, apprentices, and initiates milled about in small groups talking casually. Cindy paused by a side trail that wound back into the shrubbery and left the paved path.

Dylan watched suspiciously as she rounded the hedge and disappeared. After a brief pause, she stuck her head back around the foliage and motioned for him to follow. Dylan sighed and though he was sure that he would get into trouble for walking on the grass or something, he still felt the tingle of excitement that always accompanied a venture into mischief. So with only token hesitation, Dylan quickly dashed into the bushes.

Dylan followed the flashing white tunic of his roommate as Cindy darted in and around the bushes heading deeper into the miniature, well-groomed forest. Within moments, he came to a stop beside her as she stood on an outcropping of granite that jutted out into a clear pool of water. A small spring bubbled from the rocks a little farther up the way, and tumbled down a tiny waterfall to collect in the basin before them. A ways to their right a tiny stream evacuated the excess accumulation out of the glade.

Cooing with delight, Cindy unfastened her sandals and sat at the edge of the rock to dangle her tiny feet into the cool water. She wiggled her toes and splashed playfully. Then she leaned back on the sun-warmed rock. "Come on and try it," she urged. "It feels so good."

Dylan sat at the edge of the rock and peered over the edge. "Are you sure that it's allowed?"

"No one's ever told me otherwise," Cindy informed him, "and I've been doing this for several weeks."

"I also don't see anyone else doing it," Dylan countered. "That makes me think it might not be allowed."

"Well I've seen someone else here," Cindy rebutted. "It was a master and he saw me. He didn't say anything to me so I'm going to assume that it was all right."

Dylan saw her point. He sat and removed his own shoes. He tested the water cautiously with his toe. "I wonder if fish can smell dirty feet?" he wondered aloud.

Cindy sat up instantly. "Are you saying that my feet stink?"

"No," Dylan assured her. A lesson his father had told him long ago came to mind. When dealing with a woman, the best answer is no answer. Dylan changed the subject.

"This is a very pretty place," he took in his surroundings critically.

"Thank you," Cindy smiled impishly.

"I wasn't talking about you," Dylan began and immediately wished he had kept quiet.

"You mean I'm not pretty?"

"Yes! I mean no!" It was too late; Dylan saw the sandal flying at him. Youthful reflexes saved him, however and Cindy's left sandal went sailing out into the pool with a quiet splash.

"I mean, yes, you are pretty and no, that's not what I had meant," Dylan tried to explain.
Cindy's glare softened. "Well why didn't you say that in the first place," she scolded. “Then my shoe wouldn't be out in the water. Now you'll have to go out there and get it."

"Me? Why me? It's your shoe and you threw it. Why don't you go and get it?"

"Because I am a girl, silly."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Oh, Dylan," Cindy sighed in frustration. "Don't you know what a wet white tunic looks like on a girl?"

"No," he admitted, "what?"

Cindy rolled her eyes. "It makes our boobs show through, dummy."

"I didn't know you had boobs," Dylan told her. The reaction was nothing at all what he had expected. This time the sandal did hit him square between the eyes. When the spots disappeared, Dylan realized that Cindy had left and she had done so without her shoes.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked himself.

"You failed to notice that your friend was a girl," a deep voice answered him. Dylan turned to see a tall man in the robe of a master standing not far away.

"She was trying to get you to acknowledge that she was either pretty or sexy. I know that the second concept is a little strange to one of your age, but the first one should have been clear enough."

"I didn't mean to disturb you, master," Dylan apologized. He stood up and turned to go.

"There's no need for you to leave," the tall man informed him. "Besides, you would be well advised not to seek your friend out unless you have both of her shoes."

Dylan looked around helplessly until his eye spotted a long stick lying next to one of the leaning willow trees that hung out across the pool. He grabbed the stick and shinnied out over the water where he snagged the floating sandal and hauled it closer to the shore. When it was within reaching distance, Dylan easily retrieved the object. He held his trophy up for the master to see.

The tall man shook his head and his black hair fluffed slightly. "You still don't see it do you?" The master approached as Dylan examined the shoe more closely. What was he supposed to see?

Without warning, the tall human lifted Dylan and tossed him into the water. Dylan came to the surface sputtering. He stumbled, confounded to the granite outcropping and climbed out of the chilly water. Then he sat shivering on the sun-warmed rock. "I beg your pardon, master, but why'd you do that?"

"You're just a little too clever," the master explained with a chuckle. "Your friend, the little girl, wanted you to make a sacrifice for her. By wimping out on telling her that she was pretty, and by failing to notice that she had boobs, you then failed to go through a little discomfort for her sake."

Dylan shook his head and closed his eyes. "How does anyone come to understand women?"

The mage laughed. "No one ever does, son. But now that you went to all the trouble of getting totally soaked for the sake of rescuing your friend's shoes, you may very well find that you’re again in her good graces."

Dylan looked at Cindy's sandals and then sat. "Do your initiates act like this too?" he asked.

The man glanced at the rope around Dylan's waist. "You are one of Tesron's pupils aren't you?"

"Yes," Dylan answered.

"Well, believe it or not," the mage replied, "Tesron was my first student, and at this time I don't have any apprentices."

"How can that be?" Dylan wondered speculatively. "Master Tesron must be at least forty years old, and you don't look very old at all."

The man laughed. "I just look young," he admitted. "In truth I'm over one hundred years old."

Dylan's eyes went wide. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said taking an involuntary step backwards. In doing so he slipped and almost toppled into the water, but was saved by a strong hand on the end of a long arm.

"What's wrong?" the man asked.

"I thought you were a man," Dylan answered reluctantly.

"I'm human," the man informed him.

"That's impossible," Dylan argued. "Humans can't live that long."

"You are a very amazing little boy," the man chuckled. "You wear the tunic of an initiate, and in the same breath call a master elementalist a liar and claim to know what is and what is not possible."

Dylan blushed. "I apologize," he muttered sheepishly. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Well what did you mean?"

"I was wondering how a human could live so long and still look so young."

The master smiled and turned Dylan back towards the main complex. "Let's just say that I'm a very unusual person." He handed the girl's shoes to Dylan. "I suggest you take these and try to salvage your friendship with that young lady."

Dylan frowned. Why should he bow and scrape to Cindy. She had thrown her own shoe into the pool and hit him in the face with one of them to boot. "She's just a girl," he muttered irritably.

"Not for much longer," the tall strange master informed him. "She'll soon be a young woman and I suggest you notice her very often or your life is going to be very difficult."

Dylan took a couple of steps forward and then turned. The mage waved and nodded. "Be brave young man, for you go to serve a fair maiden," he laughed.

Dylan sighed and walked back towards the main building. Several passers by gave him strange looks as he dripped water with every step. He felt totally humiliated and miserable when he finally entered the room.

Cindy lay on her bed fuming. She glanced at him briefly as he stepped through the door then she did a double take. When she observed his soaked attire and her rescued sandals, her gaze softened considerably.

Cindy sat upright and giggled. "You're wet," she said.

Dylan felt stunned by her brilliant observation. He responded only by holding her shoes out for her.

Cindy got up from her bed and took the shoes. "Dylan," she complained, "you are dripping all over the floor. Go take a bath and put on some dry clothes."

Dylan made no attempts to argue or rebel. He simply did as she told him. He had the strange feeling that it would not be the first time in his life that he would do what she asked of him.

After Dylan returned from the bath hall in a fresh clean outfit, he found that Cindy had cleaned the mess he had made on the floor and was waiting for him. When he placed his wet clothes in the basin to be picked up by the laundry detail, Cindy watched him wordlessly as she hummed quietly to herself.

The sun had gone down by that time and only the light from the oil lamp on the table enabled them to see each other. It was obvious that Cindy wanted to talk since she kept glancing over at him, and Dylan reasoned that in some way he was the one who was supposed to start the conversation. He feared that if he didn't, that he would be in for a repeat of the shoe throwing incident.

"Will your shoes dry out by morning?" he asked.

Cindy answered almost immediately. "Yes they will. Thank you for getting them for me."

"That's okay," he conceded. "You were right. It's not proper for a girl as mature as you are to be wearing a wet white tunic."

"Oh, so you have been noticing?" Cindy's voice was triumphant. Then almost as if the lights had been blown out, her mood changed radically. "Why have you been looking?" she asked accusingly.

Dylan felt like screaming. He was on the verge of getting up and leaving the room when he caught the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Two could play the same game, he decided. "I didn't notice until you brought it up," he said. He pause until he saw her eyes flash angrily then he quickly continued. "Your face is so pretty that I hadn't had time to look at anything else." There! Let her chew on that one.

Before Cindy could respond, Mally entered the room. She nodded briefly to her roommates and proceeded to move all of her belongings over to Roger's bed. It was at that point that Dylan noticed that all of Roger's belongings were gone. Apparently he was no longer enrolled at the Academy.

The significance of what he was there for and the price of failure settled once more to the forefront of Dylan's consciousness. He decided that it would be best to avoid sharing Roger's fate at all costs.