Arkat Alumnus

1: Student Life

Black Lotus - The Experiment - Curiosity - Mischief or Misfortune? - A Troublesome Student
A Question of Desire - Saints - Golden Boy Blues - Heresy - Nose to the grindstone - Painting
The Old Librarian - Water and Resentment - Final Preparations - Family

~oOo~

Exalian's suspicions about Jayron had first been aroused shortly before Sacred Time. He'd arrived at his master's room for a personal tutorial. As he'd been about to knock on the door, an incoherent shout of rage sounded from within and he stepped back in alarm. The door suddenly opened and a red-faced Jayron burst out, almost knocking the apprentice off his feet.

"What? What is it boy?" he'd snapped. "Quickly now. I don't have time for guessing games!"

As Exalian had struggled in vain to make words come out of his mouth, his master's expression abruptly changed. With a visible effort, he composed himself and forced a smile.

"Ah, Exalian," he said in a calmer tone. "We have a tutorial now, don't we? My apologies. Please, sit yourself down. I have an, um... that is, a short errand to run. I'll be back in a short while."

Perplexed, the young student watched his master striding away down the corridor for a moment, then entered the room and sat down. After a few minutes, he noticed a crumpled piece of paper on the desk. Unable to resist, he walked over to the desk and cautiously unfolded it. The short note was signed "B" and seemed to have been written hastily, albeit in an accomplished and rather elaborate hand.

"Your 'project' must cease immediately," he read. "It's far too dangerous to continue with this madness. Since it seems that you won't listen to reason any more, I've taken steps to protect you from yourself. You'll obtain no more BL from me, nor from any of the others. I hope that this eventually helps you to see with clarity once again."

Hearing footsteps in the corridor, Exalian hastily replaced the crumpled paper and sat down. As he carefully arranged his face in an expression of innocence, he belatedly noticed the large, heavily-bound tome sitting on Jayron's desk and managed to catch a quick glimpse of the title on the spine before his master entered the room. The script was unfamiliar and difficult to make out, but one of the symbols looked suspiciously familiar. Unless he missed his guess, it was one of the standard ideograms for Hell...

~oOo~

Later that week, while returning to college after a night out he had chanced upon a pair of men lurking in an alley just outside the college. As it was after curfew, Exalian had been in the process of scaling the college wall when he realised that an urgent conversation was taking place below, only a few metres further down the alley.

"Do you have it?" the first man had whispered, in a desperate tone. "Damn it man - do you have it?" His face was concealed by shadow, but its lines and some intangible quality of the man's voice seemed very familiar to the eavesdropping apprentice. Could this really be his master Jayron?

"Course I 'ave," the other man replied. "Di'nt I say I'd get some for ya? 'Ere you go, gov'nor," he continued, holding out a small object. "That's yer genuine Black Lotus, that is. An' it's Stygian, too - the best."

The first man had snatched the proffered object and frantically begun to unwrap it. There was the unmistakable sound of someone sniffing, followed by a sigh of evident satisfaction.

"Aaaah! Yes, that's it. That's it..."

"Told ya. Wha'sa bloke like you want wi' an 'igh like this, though? If you'd asked I could've got you some nice dream juice. Ain't a lot of call for Lotus, on account o' it's, err... rep'tation, know wha' I mean?"

"That's no concern of yours," the other man told him shortly. Exalian heard the distinctive chink of coin against coin. "Here's your money. I've added a little extra for your... trouble - and your silence," he added pointedly.

There was the sound of air sucked through teeth. "Yeah, you 'ave too. Much obliged, gov. Been a pleasure doin' bus'ness wi' ya. Don't 'esitate to call again if you need sommat else."

As the second man walked away, whistling tunelessly, Jayron - and Exalian was now sure that it was his master - edged out of the alley, looking around to make sure that no-one had seen him, then produced a key and let himself in via the back gate to the college.

~oOo~

Exalian has had plenty of time to ponder these events during Sacred Time, but little opportunity to learn more. He's therefore looking forward to the first day of term and his first tutorial with Jayron. He only hopes that his master's 'project', whatever it may be, has yet to come to fruition...

He spends most of the Sacred Time with his family in the village, working at the quarry (which he's particularly unsuited for), when not engaged with the religious observances. When he can find time, he goes to see his friend in the forest. The first day of the new term eventually arrives and Exalian returns to college, glad to be back in the city and away from the dusty quarry.

At first, he's certain that the day will drag until his tutorial in the afternoon, but then he catches a brief glimpse of his master as he's going into his first class of the morning. Jayron looks pale and distracted, a sheen of sweat coating his face. Exalian finds himself smiling with relief. Clearly his fear that the adept might already have completed his 'project during Sacred Time were unfounded,

By the time of their tutorial, Jayron seems to have regained some of his colour, but his sunken and bloodshot eyes continue to give Exalian hope.

"Sit down, boy," the adept tells his apprentice, after ushering him into his room. "I have a letter for you somewhere."

Perplexed, Exalian does as he is told and watches his master rummaging around on his desk, which is almost completely covered in books and papers. Glancing around, he realises that the entire room, which is normally orderly and clean, is in an obvious state of disarray. There are also hints - discarded food, a crumpled blanket in one corner - that Jayron has been spending rather more time in here than absolutely necessary.

"Here it is," the adept announces, handing Exalian a folded letter with a wax seal. "Read that and then we'll..."

A knock at the door interrupts him.

"Enter!" Jayron calls and Exalian, who is still staring at the letter in his hands, hears the door open behind him. "Well, boy. What is it?"

"Please sir," a timid voice replies. "Headmaster wants to see you. Said it was urgent, sir."

Jayron gives a snort of annoyance. "I'm sure he did. Very well. Run along now - I'll be along directly." He turns to Exalian. "Right, boy. You read that letter and I'll be back shortly to answer any questions. Or perhaps to tell you that the head has come to his senses and changed his mind..."

He stomps out, slamming the door behind him.

~oOo~

Dear student,

I am pleased to inform you that you, along with some of your more capable peers, have been chosen to take part in a new and exciting academic venture.

During Spring Term you will be joined in a series of special lessons by students from the other three Schools in Syran and masters from these schools will be working alongside your customary teachers to take those lessons. The headmaster and I hope that this collaboration will give you and the other lucky students a broader education in wizardry and that it will help to foster a spirit of cooperation and goodwill between the schools.

You will, of course, continue to work on your personal magical development with your assigned master and for some subjects you will continue to join the normal Imperial College lessons. Your progress and the progress of the other students taking part in this experiment will of course be closely monitored, so that we can properly assess its benefits.

If this exciting new undertaking is a deemed a success, as I am certain that it will, then the new arrangements may continue beyond Spring Term and may even be extended to incorporate all of your fellow students. I hope that you will give this historic venture your full support and I look forward to teaching you and your new friends in the very near future.

Yours faithfully,

Father Emoliant
Imperial College Liturgist

~oOo~

Father Emoliant had been appointed last term by the headmaster, to provide "moral guidance" to the students and adepts of the Imperial College. Exalian had heard about the liturgist's infamous "Perils of Sorcery" lectures from older students and had not been looking forward to enduring them himself when they started this year. Some of the students (and reportedly more than a few of the masters) thought that Emoliant's appointment had been firm evidence of the headmaster's senility. Exalian wondered what they would make of this new 'experiment'...

Looking up from the letter, Exalian glances curiously around the room. Something to chew over later, he thinks. I wonder how long will Jayron be occupied with the headmaster?

Exalian looks at the desk tentatively at first. His curiosity gets the best of him, however, and suddenly he leaps up and starts grabbing papers and such, reading a bit of each of them quickly in order to see if they look suspicious. The desk already being in disarray from Jayron having just shuffled through everything, Exalian doesn't have to worry about putting things back in the same places he found them. He does develop a system quickly for putting aside papers he's already been through, so he doesn't have to go over everything twice. And knowing some of Jayron's habits, he quickly moves through the more mundane stuff only looking for anything out of place.

Exalian had never in truth been a practising member of the Stygian Church, but in learning it's ways in order to be accepted into the College, there was one lesson in particular that he recalls as he goes through the papers. What he could be looking for might not be as dark as he suspected. Perhaps the Lotus was for something innocent. So Exalian keeps an open mind as he looks. He also considers that there may be other sorts of evidence than written, and so keeps an eye out for other things out of place. Just what had Jayron been doing in this room?

As he goes through things, Exalian considers, too, for a moment whether or not he'd be doing this if he hadn't picked up the Syran tendency to consider any form of authority to be immediately suspect. His parents had taught him the Galvosti tradition of assuming that one's superiors were always right...but he had to admit that he believed the Syran ideal much more. And certainly for non-Galvosti.

But was that the only reason he was looking? Certainly he didn't bear Jayron any particular ill will. Was it becuase he was worried about his master? What would he do if he found something sinister? That thought sent chills through Exalian. He had to admit that he might not tell anyone if he found something dark... he might keep it to himself. Just the idea of finding some dark bit of magic impells Exalian on to search more quickly.

As he does so, Exalian glibly rationalizes to himself that he should actually be lauded for looking into this by one point of view.... Didn't the College always teach that one should look into things, seek for knowledge?

As he goes along, he sees Adept Toruk's name on something, and for a moment he wondered how Toruk would feel if he discovered that Exalian invaded the privacy of one of the school masters. Just as he thinks about this, he can feel one of his headaches coming on, just in time to distract him from his search.

The books and papers on the desk don't seem to follow any sort of obvious pattern. The first book that Exalian picks up is filled with mathematical proofs; the next is a history of glass-making in Syran; the third is an illustrated guide to the butterflies of Safelster. He flicks rapidly through a pile of papers, finding a set of notes on the properties of various minerals, an essay about the Dawn Age Schools, the first page of a dissertation entitled "The dialectical idea of progress through negation" and a series of inexpertly rendered calligraphy exercises.

He decides to focus on the papers. Perhaps this seemingly random collection is nothing more sinister than the homework of Jayron's other students? No, that can't be it: the papers are all showing signs of age and most of them seem to be written in the same hand. Ah, and here the author has scrawled his name at the top: Calum? Or maybe Callin? A former student, perhaps? But why is Jayron so interested in his notes?

Glancing around the room for inspiration, he notices the blanket in the corner of the room again. From this side of the desk his curious eye catches something that had not been visible before: the corner of a book poking out from beneath the blanket. Heart pounding with excitement, he moves towards it and tentatively lifts the blanket to get a better look...

A small sound from behind him makes Exalian freeze.

Swallowing nervously, he turns slowly around, fully expecting to see his master standing in the doorway, but finds that the room is still empty. He breathes a sigh of relief and is about to turn back to the blanket, when he hears the sound again. He has just enough time to realise that it is coming from the bookcase before a small black shape jumps down from one of the shelves and pads softly over to him, mewing plaintively.

It is Midnight, Jayron's black cat. Purring, she rubs against his leg and then moves over to the blanket and sits down directly on top of the half-concealed book. The animal gives him a long measuring look, her green eyes seeming to admonish him for daring to interfere with her master's personal possessions, then settles down to clean herself.

What Exalian's mother would say about this...

Exalian backs away from the cat, quickly straightens up any very obvious evidence of his meddling that he can find, and sits down to await Jayron's return. He picks up the letter to him so he can pretend to be reading it, but realizes that this would be a useless ruse, and so sits patiently and waits.

And while he does, the urge to go over and reach for the book is nearly overwhelming...

~oOo~

Erentona wipes moisture from her cheeks, and tells herself it was just splashes from the wash water. She wasn't crying, really she wasn't. Just because she had ink all over her best robe wasn't a reason to cry. She'd been sure she'd carefully put her robe away properly when obviously she'd left it on the chest that was under the shelf where her ink bottle had just been waiting to tumble over and roll off, but that was no reason to cry. Just because her luck seemed to be going from bad to worse to impossible was no reason to cry. She could handle it, she always did. If she scrubbed the robe enough she was sure she could get the ink out. She had to get the ink out, so she would.

"Hey Eren, what are you doing in here?" It was that new student, what was his name again, Vey-something? "I was walking past in the hall and I heard a noise in here, was wondering what anyone was doing in here at dinner time."

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm washing ink out of my robe."

"Oh, my mom would kill me for that! Best to be careful around ink. But let me scrub at it a bit, your hands look just raw already."

"It's OK, I can do it. But, uh, thanks for offering. Shouldn't you be getting to the refectory?"

"Shouldn't you too, can't your robe wait?"

"No, I can't let the ink set any more. I need to get it clean for the disputation coming up. They barely let me go, I can't show up looking all ragged. I already had the scroll I was writing come apart, can you believe I got bad paste on my first formal scroll? So it is kind of patched. And somehow sparks from the fire in my room put holes in both of my pairs of hose, so they are patched too. I can't believe my luck." She couldn't believe she'd let all of that out, but Vey always seemed so nice, it was hard not to talk to him, and it felt so good to tell someone.

"Oh," he replies, "that is rotten luck! Say, could you be under a curse or something? You haven't broken the rules of some group enough that they'd put the effort into cursing you, could you have? I know a few old timers aren't big on girls and the lower orders being admitted to the university."

That was enough to make Eren stop scrubbing for a moment. More than once she'd thought that if anyone had just stated the obvious, that she didn't belong here, she'd have gladly left. But could someone be trying to drive her out in such a sneaky way? She still half wants to leave, but to let someone push her out? She has more pride than that!"

"You should really get to the refectory before the food is gone. I can afford to miss a meal or two; it doesn't look like you can so much. But you really have been a big help."

Vey-whatsisname gives her a smile as he leaves the room. It seemed like a somewhat odd smile, but still, he'd smiled at her. First talked to her, then smiled at her! She peers at the ink stain, not so bad at all... maybe the day wasn't as horrible as she'd been thinking.

Hurriedly leaving the wash-room, Eren almost walks into Master Atlan.

"I say! Watch where you're going, boy!" the adept snaps at her. His face and tone both soften as he recognises her. "Oh! Beg pardon, Erentona. Thought you were one of the... that is... oh, you know what I mean. Had a little accident, have we?" he adds, gesturing at her ink-stained robe.

Eren nods, hoping that she isn't blushing.

"Anyway, I'm glad I bumped into you. I have something for you here," he announces, rummaging in the voluminous pockets of his threadbare robe. "Now where has the blasted thing gone? Oh, Paslac's bl..." He stops mid-curse and covers his mouth with his hand, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Eren. Force of habit, you know. Ah, here it is!"

Atlan hands her a rather crumpled piece of paper, which had originally been folded neatly and sealed with a blob of red wax. Eren recognises the Imperial College insignia impressed in the wax.

"'Fraid I have to run now, but you go ahead and read it and we'll talk about it this later - we have a tutorial this afternoon, don't we, fourth quarter?"

Eren scans the letter with growing misgivings. "You, along with some of your more capable peers," she reads. What does that mean? That she isn't as capable as her peers? Or that that they have included her because she is amongst the 'more capable' in her peer group? By 'peers' they presumably mean the other matriculants, about forty-five apprentices all told. She wonders how many of the others have been selected for this 'experiment' and what they have made of it.

~oOo~

"Please be seated, Limner Kiki."

The Master of Tutors articulates her name with an expression of disdain on his face, as if its merest utterance has left a bad taste in his mouth. He regards the young apprentice for a few minutes before speaking again, trying to ignore the unconscious wiggling motions that she makes with her foot as she waits.

"Now," he begins, eventually. "We spoke at the end of last term about the unexpectedly rapid progress that you have made here in the first part of your apprenticeship. You are one of the youngest Limners that we've had in the long history of the Syran academy and certainly the youngest female. I have expressed my misgivings on both counts on numerous occasions, so I shall not reiterate them now."

The old man regards her thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure you merit the confidence that your tutor has in you," he continues. "But it would be foolish to deny that you have a rare gift, one which might - and I stress might - conceivably be worth the unprecedented level of disruption that your presence here has entailed thus far."

Kiki is rather taken aback. Had the Master just complemented her, or is she hearing things? No, he is still regarding her sternly, his expression characteristically severe. She must have imagined it.

"I am, nevertheless, still dubious about your tutor's latest recommendation. Now, I'm sure that you are aware that Syran is uncommonly blessed with no fewer than three other schools of wizardry. We have a long-standing if tenuous association with the Imperial College, which very generously grants us access to their library, but our dealings with the other two institutions have always been even more limited. This, it seems, is about to change."

"The Imperial College has proposed a joint enterprise involving all four schools: an experiment, initially, wherein a selection of apprentices from each school are to be taught alongside with their peers. This is apparently intended to foster amity between our institutions, a cherished goal of the College's new liturgist, I am told. The joint lessons will necessarily be limited in scope, covering only those academic subjects that are taught in common to all apprentices. It will certainly be restricted to the rudiments of practical magical training, which shall continue to be the domain of our more traditional methods of instruction."

He pauses, indulging in a deep sigh.

"My dilemma, as you have no doubt already deduced, is whether or not I should agree to include you in this madcap scheme, as your tutor has suggested. On the one hand, it might offer your tutors a spell of welcome respite from lamentable incidents such as the ones that we were forced to endure last year, involving, on one notable occasion, an equine in an unexpectedly elevated location."

Just for a moment, the Master seems to be gazing almost fondly at Kiki and the merest hint of a smile plays over his lips. My imagination is definitely playing tricks on me now, she thinks.

"On the other hand," he continues. "Inflicting your youthful propensities upon my still-unwitting counterparts from the other schools might not be the wisest course of action. Dubious though I may be regarding the wisdom of even attempting this experiment, I find that I am loath to jeopardise its hopes of success - or, at least, loath to find myself assigned with the blame for its eventual failure."

He pauses again, his expression thoughtful. Then he gives a brief nod, as if he has just made up his mind about something.

"Fortunately, a solution has presented itself. As a prelude to this... experiment, the Imperial College has invited the other schools to take part in their Spring Disputation, an annual event that engages their most able students in a contest of logical discourse. You will be one of our representatives for this event. If you give a good account of yourself and your school and *if* you manage to keep yourself out of trouble, then I shall follow your tutor's recommendation. Disgrace yourself, and..."

He lets the sentence trail off ominously.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Master," Kiki replies not quite believing her ears. She is deliberately suppressing the urge to swing her legs as they dangle from the high-backed chair she finds herself sitting on. This was good, she was sure, but bound to get her in even more trouble with the older students.

"I will do my best not to let you down," she manages in a somewhat high voice.

Curtly dismissed, Kiki leaves the intimidating room, then jumps in the air and gives a squeal of delight "Yay!" which she cuts off half-way through with a guilty look behind her. She has to behave, she tells herself, and that means not screaming with glee as she runs down the corridor as her legs want to take her.

~oOo~

Fortunately, Jayron returns before Exalian's curiosity overcomes his caution. Unexpectedly, the adept seems pensive and faintly amused.

"Well, well, well," he says to his student. "It seems that the headmaster has decided to add a last-minute twist to this joint teaching experiment proposed by our esteemed College Liturgist. You've read the letter? Good. Now, I'm sure that you have a number of questions, but I need to ask you a question first. Then I'll tell you about the headmaster's new proposal. My question is this: do you actually want to be part of this... experiment?" The question reverberates in Exalian's mind. Is Jayron actually concerned for what Exalian wants? Seems unlikely. There must be some agenda behind the question. Perhaps it is a test... to see how devoted Exalian is to the school and his duties.

Exalian is too curious to answer without more information. Though he knows he may sound impertinent for doing so, he asks, "Why, master, do you ask? Is there some other course that I might take, than that which the letter prescribes?"

Jayron nods approvingly.

"Aye, you always were a quick one. Yes, lad, now you have an alternative. Although not necessarily one that you might be willing to choose..."

"I asked whether the prospect of taking part in this experiment appealed to you because the situation has changed. The headmaster's original intention was that you and a selected group of our most promising matriculants would simply be assigned to this experiment, but someone must have objected to his process of selection. Now, according to the worthy Father Emoliant, you must 'compete with your peers for the honour of representing the School in this tremendously exciting new enterprise'."

The adept's words leave little room for doubt regarding his low opinion of the College Liturgist. He favours Exalian with a wry grin.

"Now, if I was a betting man, I'd wager that one of your fellow apprentices found out about this 'enterprise', felt rather miffed that they hadn't been included and asked daddy to do something about it. I suspect that the headmaster might have been minded to ignore this, regardless of how much they complained, if the other schools hadn't also raised an objection. They thought that there were too many of our students involved and not enough of their own, I believe."

"Whatever the cause, the headmaster has decreed that the original selection of Imperial College students should be discarded and a competition should be instituted to determine which students are granted this 'privilege'. Fortunately, we already have a suitable contest in the offing - the Spring Disputation that is scheduled for later this week. The top eight finalists will be put forward as the College's candidates for the special class, joining four students from each of the other schools."

"So, lad." He gives Exalian an appraising look. "I know that you were less than enthusiastic about taking part in the disputation. Does this make it a little more interesting for you?"

A number of emotions go through Exalian at this point. On the one hand his arrogant Galvosti side tells him that, just as before when thinking about the disputation, that he had no reason to have to prove himself to the other students. In fact, wouldn't taking part in such a competition mean admitting that he might not be superior?

Of course the other students don't see the superiority of his heritage and his mind. So the notion of entering and beating the other students to prove that he was better than them had been poking at the back of his mind like some insistent bug trying to bore it's way to the center of a tree. But this is weakness, to even admit that he had to prove himself.

Or, Exalian's mind rationalizes, was it actually fear of not winning that was keeping him out of the disputations? There are different sorts of superiority - what if he wasn't really the smartest kid in the class (but his superiority lie elsewhere in his character and upbringing)? Wasn't it weakness not to compete in this case? Succumbing to his fears?

That all said, what chance did he have to win? As a Galvosti, certainly the judging would be biased against him, Exalian reasons. Or would that matter? Even if not judged first, wouldn't it become plain to all, the level of his intellect, should it be exposed in open competition?

And why should thoughts of the headmaster's daughter intrude into his mind at a time like this? Surely this was not all to impress her, should he partake in the competition?

But, then Jayron had mentioned money, and that comes into his mind right now. If this was a prestigious assignment, wouldn't it be a poke in the eye of all of those fathers who'd tried to buy their way in? Was it virtuous to be thinking such thoughts? Shouldn't he be above that? How can one rise above petty competition, if one isn't given one's due respect? Should one simply allow oneself to be relegated to a lower status?

After all, given such a situation, didn't he have to do something to distinguish himself? Wasn't his hesitance to enter the disputation at least to some extent based on simply not wanting to do all of the extra work? How was that something a Galvosti could be proud of?

Thought's of his father swim into Exalian's head, and he can hear him saying, "It's not enough that you pass your classes, Exalian, you must excel. The future of the family relies on you."

This having made his mind for him, it's an afterthought that Exalian has that rationalizes that in the exchange program, that he might have the chance to learn something about Stygian magic. This puts a grin on his face. All this passes through Exalian's mind in a short moment of contemplation, and he turns his grin on his master, Jayron, and says, "It does make it more interesting, yes. Just interesting enough."

The adept looks pleased. "I hoped you might say that. It always reflects badly when one's apprentice turns down the opportunity to take part in a disputation - almost as badly as if he does take part and makes a fool of himself. You only have three days to prepare, so you'd better make a start this evening. Obviously, I'm not officially allowed to help you, but that won't stop my colleagues from coaching their own apprentices, so... If you were to, say, work in the library this evening, then you might just chance to find me there - occupied with my own work, naturally."

Exalian nods, knowingly.

~oOo~

Eren longs to go ask someone for advice. She can feel it physically, as if her very innards were being pulled to... but that is the problem, isn't it? Who to go to? Her classmates? Most probably don't think she's even fit for the disputation, let alone further distinction. If her master had more to say to her, surely he would have said it. Her patron? What would he want her to do? She doesn't know, but the very thought of going to ask him is like pouring cold water down her boots. Perhaps from church? There are some members who are educated, some even attended the university for a spell and might know something - well, save the terror of following through on that thought for now. Really she has no good sources, so she'll have to rely on herself.

Lost again, relying on her own gifts to see her through, like St. Vannovessa in the Mountains of Despair. Or even like St. Pardic in the Wilderness of Temptation. Not that she wants to play a male role, but the writing is better in that one. If they made bulky shoulder pads for her, and a mustache, then...

A few minutes later she comes out of that reverie, and gets back to the panic at hand. Is it better to do her best all alone, or to ask for help wherever she can get it? But the only people she could turn to are her congregation members, and if they help and she messes up, maybe it would be bad for them, and she doesn't want the mess that is her life to hurt the church. So that means...?

Wait, there is another option - say she doesn't feel ready or worthy, and just drop out! It would show humility, and that she understands her place in things. And then she wouldn't risk being made a fool!

Oh, but her patron. What if heard of the offer to her - what if he helped get her the offer- and found out she turned it down. Would that not be even worse than her trying and not succeeding? What did Saint Pardic say in the second act? Yes, that's it, it was "I yearn for my lord to hear of my triumph, but that is but my pride roaring like the beasts of the hills, thinking to be heard is all that matters. In humility and faith I know that what my lord wants to hear is that I strived to my utmost, and if I fail is was the failure of my ability, not the failure of my will." And then he sings that song that father does so well.

The next thought catches her so suddenly that she stops in the middle of the corridor, although fortunately nobody is there to see it. She has to speak it out loud to make sure it is real. "I know all of those saints plays. I can take inspiration and references from those!"

And so, humming "My faith will face all" Eren returns to her rooms to revise her disputation yet again.

The rules of the disputation are deceptively simple: the competing students each present a formal thesis and then face cross-examination by a panel of three other competitors. Points are awarded for their performance in both capacities, with as much weight given to their effectiveness in the antagonistic role as to their eloquence in the delivery and defence of their own thesis.

Eren knows that there are some common pitfalls that she must be careful to avoid. The judges of the competition look for reasoned arguments, the application of logical techniques and the ability to remain calm and focussed under pressure; no prizes are given for impassioned arguments or vicious lines of questioning. Apprentices are constantly being told that their emotions are the enemy, the Five Deadly Assassins that they must learn to defeat if they are ever to succeed in their vocation. The disputation is as much a test of that tenet as it is a contest of logic.

At last year's Spring Disputation, Eren noted several extremely clever and persuasive contestants who were heavily penalised by the judges because they became over-excited, either in the defence of their own work or in the criticism of their rivals. The lessons of the saints might not seem very helpful when it comes to reasoned arguments and logical techniques, but as examples of focussed determination and emotional self-control, they might yet prove a rich source of inspiration...

~oOo~

"...And so, Pavel, we have naturally decided to put you forward as one of our candidates for this experiment. Our esteemed friends at the Imperial College have also afforded you the great honour of taking part in their Spring Disputation, which takes place in three days time. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that in taking part in this competition, and in the subsequent combined teaching experiment, you will be acting as an ambassador for your school. I trust that you will do us all proud, lad."

Pavel leaves the principal's office feeling slightly sick. As if these crazy joint classes weren't bad enough, now he had to prepare for this cursed disputation as well! He had heard about this Spring Disputation thing from his friends at the Imperial College. Oren had talked about it in the past, as something that would become a big deal for them when they matriculated. The Naval College doesn't really have an equivalent, although the curriculum for its wizardry students places much the same emphasis on the development of students logical faculties.

He wonders if Oren and Aldeth - leading members of the Imperial College clique that he socialises with - will be taking part in the Disputation this year. He imagines that Aldeth would be very good at it - he certainly finds her almost impossible to argue with - but he knows that Oren resents doing anything that involves extra work. Still, if there is as much kudos attached to this as Oren had implied, then Pavel doesn't doubt that they'll feel obliged to take part, if only to keep their pushy parents off their backs.

The principal had mentioned that three of his fellow students had also been accorded the 'honour' of taking part in the disputation, all of them able cadets (equivalent of the Imperial College's matriculants) like himself. The same three will subsequently take part in the combined teaching experiment. Pavel knows all of them well - how could he not, when there are only a dozen able cadets studying wizardry? Two of them, Meredith and Gorbo, had started at the same time as him, while the third, Pensimmon, is a precocious little nerd who'd left his neophyte status behind after only a year of study.

From what the principal has told him - and what he remembers from Oren's comments - this disputation is as much about self-control as it is about logic and reasoned argument. He still needs to prepare a thesis, however, and one that he can defend with confidence. The principal had suggested that he use a recent essay from his Formal Logic class as a starting point, but that doesn't seem like much help to Pavel: he'd managed to avoid doing any of the essays himself.

And to make matters worse he only has three days in which to prepare!

First step, though, is to pick one of those Formal Logic essays. Pavel quickly settles on the one written by Pensimmon. He didn't understand a word of it, not really having read it; it was something about why water can only flow upwards on a Windsday. He'd changed some of it, of course, so it wasn't recognisably the same as Pensimmon's.

That settled, Pavel leaves his cell to sit at the entrance to his Hall. Inevitably, a gaggle of maids crosses before him and he winks at Laria. It would be sad to see her glum face have brightened so suddenly if Pavel really cared. He doesn't, though, and swiftly arranges to see her that evening, out behind the kitchen, there to persuade her to have a certain conversation with Pensimmon.

Laria pouts prettily. "What, that pasty-faced little loser? Well, since it's you, Pavvy..."

He can just imagine the poor fool's nervousness at being confronted by Laria. She's taller by a hand than the boy and has enough interesting curves to tie his tongue in a most intricate knot.

Trusting the young maid's devastating charms to do their work on Pensimmon, Pavel puts the matter out of his mind and makes the most of the free time, pondering his selection to represent the college. Well, it is only natural, of course. There are likely some students who command the subject material better, but that's little help if they don't know how to put themselves forward.

His first inkling that all is not going to plan comes when a plainly irate Pensimmon bursts into the Heron Hall common room shortly before lights-out.

"Oy! What d'you think you're doin' 'ere?" one of Pavel's hall-mates bellows belligerently. "Get back to your own bleedin' 'all, you little wazzock!"

Pensimmon blanches and hesitates at the door, but then seems to summon up the courage again. He walks up to Pavel and hisses. "Outside. Now!"

Arching a curious eyebrow and exchanging a knowing look with his companions, Pavel gets to his feet and follows the fuming Pensimmon to the door, stepping out into the cold night air.

"Well?" he enquires. "Did the lovely Laria deliver my message?"

"Yes she did," Pensimmon replies, blushing furiously. "But you needn't have bothered - there's absolutely no way I'm going to help you to cheat! No way!" he repeats, glaring defiantly at the older boy.

Pavel is a little taken aback. This isn't the Pensimmon he is familiar with - meek, nerdy, eager to please, only to happy to be seen with the most popular boy in school. When did the little mouse develop this unexpected roar? Perhaps there is more to the boy than Pavel had thought.

"My dear boy..." he begins, but Pensimmon interrupts, shaking his head.

"No, curse you! I don't care what you say, or what you do to me - my mind is made up. Helping you with your homework was one thing, but this competition is about the honour of the school," he says, a note of awe in his voice. "The honour of the school, you understand? I simply couldn't live with myself if I did anything to defile that reputation."

"But..."

"I said no! And if you try to force me, I'll... I'll... I'll tell the principal! Good night!"

He storms off, leaving Pavel, who can't help but be amused, to ponder his next move.

~oOo~

As Exalian sits in the library pondering his lessons this semester, while peering out the window at the drab view he has of the city wall not far off, he considers what thesis to present. It has to be something bold and daring. Yet also something that fits in with his worldview, while not making anyone suspicious.

What had been most interesting this year? Truth be told, the introductions that they'd had to various heretical beliefs in "History of Wizardry" had delivered some information that had sparked a curiosity in Exalian and made him look forward to the "Perils of Sorcery" lessons that they would be starting this year. One of the younger (and lower ranked) teachers had mentioned the existence of some self-titled 'Arkati' heresies that teach sorcery. But how to delve into these heresies without getting himself in trouble?

Thinking a bit more, he recalls something his father had once said before he left for school, "Speak of religious matters as though a Syran, but always remember that in your heart, you are Galvosti." What if he looked into the Arkati heresies to determine just why they are so dangerous and blasphemous? His thesis could display their flaws for all to see and they would think him quite virtuous for having shown everybody why these false views of Arkat were in error, and how to avoid the traps that their proponents had fallen into.

Meanwhile this might allow him access to books that he might otherwise not be allowed to see, and potentially gain some Stygian knowledge at the same time.

Decided on the matter, Exalian looks for master Jayron to see if he agrees with the thesis choice, and to try to get him to specify some direction on where to go on the subject of heresies.

"The Arkati Question? A bold and interesting choice," Jayron observes. "Although it will probably a controversial one, given the dubious nature of some of the material. Well, Exalian, if you are going to take this seriously after all then I'll not discourage you. Let me recommend some suitable background reading..."

Exalian takes Jayron's suggestion, and heads off to the library to find these texts. At the same time, however, his first intent is to get an idea of what the books Jayron suggests are like to see if they're really what he's looking for. He tears into them, his talent for absorbing texts propelled on by his desire to know more about this subject. He keeps his mind focused on his method of searching through the texts trying not to be distracted or get off on tangents reading anything that's not important. Too little time to find what he needs to be reading everything.

Used to studying hard, Exalian spends considerable time in the library, skipping dinner (he uses the spell he learned from an upper-classman to prevent hunger from setting in and distracting him). As he goes along, he keeps notes on potential leads, using his magical quill, given to him by his father. He also memorizes some of the most important tracts, using the spell to do so that many of the students at the college know.

Some of the texts are, as Jayron's comments indicated might be true, are rather deep and contradictory; Exalian feels a bit complimented that his master feels confident enough in his abilities to figure these out. Indeed Exalian has always been able to deal with such subjects with relative ease.

When he finally finishes reading and heads for his bed, tired and hungry, Exalian's feels pleased with himself. He is already starting to formulate some promising arguments, inspired by one author's description of Arkat's "paradoxical role as both a reverent student of the numinous patterns that comprise the universe and a fearless rule-breaker who never hesitated to re-formulate those patterns to pursue his own goals", but he needs to sleep to give his brain a chance to stop whirling...

~oOo~

"This is my first disputation," Eren tells herself. "I'm sure it will be easy to embarrass myself, and so my teacher and patron. I can't let that happen!"

"I'd love to pen something truly classic, that others would talk about and quote from for years to come, but if I try that more likely I'll make a fool of myself - and anyway, master Atlan did tell us not to try anything too fancy, so I should obey him. I've not been to these disputations, but of course at church I've seen formal discussions of philosophical points, and I know how easy it is for clever points to be undercut. Hmmm, I can actually use the scripture of the First Church as inspiration, I can run arguments parallel to those justifying the worship of the Regents! The differences between saints and the Regents are fundamental, but also not so large in some ways."

"But I must remember that I should be content with my place as a good student, and not try to be something better than that - I'm only a student, it would be deceiving myself to think I'm a great philosopher already. So I'd best make sure that I cover all the steps I was taught, and do them as I was taught, even if I'd like to do something more creative. If nothing else I can make Master Atlan proud of how well I've learned what he's been trying to beat into me. So I'd best focus on the forms of the argument, and only takes quotes from the saints' plays at the end--it would be so much more fun to make those more central, but best not to, just use those to help summarize each point."

"I'd best make a plan to ensure that I cover it all, so I don't have to go back and revise at the last minute. And even before that, since this is such dry stuff, better make use of that 'focus attention' spell! Now, what did the rule of Helmat say about proper and improper forms of questions?"

And so Erentona passes much of her day, swotting dutifully. She reviews all of her relevent notes, staying incredibly focussed on the task for one of her age. She makes sure that she has all of the facts in her head, devising clever quizzes for herself to test that she does in fact have it as well memorized as she thinks she does. Mostly she finds that she doesn't, but with determination she makes herself go through it all again and again.

Her thesis is perhaps a little bold, but she makes sure that she makes only modest claims about it.

The only flaw in her focus is one treacherous thought, that no matter what she does she cannot suppress, which keeps whispering "You are so much better than this, you have so much more potential than just plodding through the forms..."

~oOo~

Kiki makes it all the way to the courtyard before breaking into a run back to her cell, fist clamped in her mouth to restrain her excitement. Ignoring the looks others give her as she passes, she slips into her cell. Excused classes for the next four days was also something to celebrate.

Now girl, she says to herself, remember what your mum taught you: calm on the outside, control your breathing, release your inner tranquility. And stop jumping up and down on your bed like a loon!

Now - let's get going. On what subject should she base her dissertation?

Kiki breaks out her sketch pad, as always when she is searching for inspiration, and quickly draws a few sketches as she hunts for ideas with an open mind. Three days to prepare . What can she fit into three days work and not risk presenting something that is half-baked?

Well, as a Limner she will be expected to provide something that is illustrated rather than just dry words, she reasons. After all that's our job. Can she fit that in? well she will just have to make the time.

Mind made up, Kiki heads for the Imperial Library to brush up on her chosen subject before she commits anything to canvas. Ah good - no one has taken out "In Peace and Harmony thought the Woods". Not that there was much call for it. Apart from a few nice illustrations, most of the text, though Western, was written with a very odd hand.. At the end of the day the event she selects from the book to illustrate is a meeting in the woods where St Xemela was saved from attack by a Unicorn. Two of her favourite subjects as a healer, of sorts, and an animal lover.

Up bright and early the next day, needing to make use of all of the daylight, Kiki heads to the Attic with her painting things. Now let's get creative where should she start? Let's see, a very life-like Unicorn in the centre, head down in a threatening poise. Now lots of detail on the Horn that's the unicorn's magic focus. Anyone who has had to look at the sharp end of that thing, like Kiki did when she was establishing the relationship with the unicorn, knows how intimidating that is, especially when you are standing there bare, shivering and unarmed, entirely at its mercy. Now layout - lets have St Xemela, a religiously acceptable representation of her anyway, to the side and back with a pained look on her face as she is torn between gratitude for being protected and distress that crude violence is required to do it.

Now does that give the right impression? Yes that will do. And the monster? No, she is not giving that thing much space on her canvas, besides what it was never clear in the scripts. Just the grasping clawed hands showing that will do. Its eyes as your viewpoint that would be an interesting twist. Yes - do you have a monster inside? Would you oppose the mercy that St Xemela represents? Good.

As the light fails outside Kiki is pleased with her work and says her prayer over the painting. Hopefully the paint will dry well.

The next day sees another early rise for Kiki, but she needs to make the time for it will be another busy day. She spends the last day before the Disputation organizing her thoughts and ideas, watching the paint dry and extracting how her image links into the ideals she is going to support: the kindness and goodness of St Xemela, and the idea that nobility can also be found in the animal kingdom. Then she puts it all down on paper and makes a series of headlines and pictograms as a memory aid.

~oOo~

Exalian wakes the next day, his head brimming with knowledge. He's never packed so much into his head in so small a time. He's never going to be able to keep it all straight. Not in just a couple of days. His mind turns to that balm that cures all (in Exalian's mind), magic! One of the students had mentioned that there was a ghost in the library, and that it was rumored to be that of one of the former librarians or somesuch. And, further that this being would teach magic, if venerated in just the right way.

His curiosity about this being, as much as anything makes his decision for him.

Exalian decides to head off after breakfast to the library to read up on this librarian if he can find anything, how to propitiate it if such information exists, and generally how one does this sort of thing. He reads all morning, and, armed with what he's discovered, decides that this isn't something he wants to attempt alone.

His plan is to attempt to recruit his best (well really only) friend, Neronil. Then he goes to try to accumulate some objects that might help with the little ritual. After creatively aquiring what he needs (something he learned from his brothers in the quary), he sets up carefully, and then begins to look about for the syymbolic signs of the essence as Jayron has instructed him. He invents a chant to clear his mind as he tries to reach out to the essence.

The information that Exalian has managed to glean from various oblique references to the Old Librarian tells him that the entity is concerned only with protecting and preserving its beloved library. Persuading it to talk to you is the first step; after that it seems to be a matter of convincing it that you share its concerns.

One reference had suggested tidying away the books left out by other students as a sure fire way to attract the Old Librarian's attention. Exalian and Neronil decide to take this approach, enduring the sniggers and snide remarks of other students working in the library. Just as they are about to give up, they notice that the spectral figure is watching them.

"Your diligent service is admirable," it whispers, in a voice that sends shivers down their spines. "If a little transparent. But if you are in earnest, then the Library is always in need of new protectors. If you would join me in this great task, then seek a book named Marrek's Oath. If you are prepared to bind yourself to the Library's defence, then speak the words of the Oath therein before the Librarian's lectern. If your purpose is true, then you need have no fear..."

Exalian and Neronil find the book with some difficulty, since its spine is broken and its cover bady worn, but the contents are undamaged. In addition to the oath that gives it its title, the slim volume contains instructions for making and inscribing three paper tokens, which may in turn be used to create special talismans that allow the user to call upon the Librarian's magical aid.

According to the unnamed author of the book, anyone who seeks to gain one of the Librarian's gifts must make one of these tokens and then speak the Oath before the ancient lectern in the Imperial Library, whereupon the Librarian will appear to test their resolve. If satisfied, it will then teach the supplicant the ritual that activates their chosen talisman. The talismans themselves crumble to dust once invoked, or after a week in any event, but the ritual can be repeated to create a new one. The author warns against repeating the ritual too frequently, however, "lest the power of the Library be diminished as a result".

While excitedly memorising the oath, the two friends busy themselves fashioning one of the talismans as instructed. They wait until the Library is almost deserted, then take their completed tokens to the lectern. Solemnly intoning the oath, which binds the speaker to defend the Library and to serve its "duly appointed Keeper", Exalian feels the prickle of power in the air and sees the Librarian materialising at the lectern.

"I am the Keeper," the spectral form declares, once their oaths have been spoken. "Charged with the protection of these hallowed halls and their precious treasures. Exalian Urmantle, I bind thee to thy oath and grant you this boon. Neronil son of Calum, I bind thee to thy oath and grant you this boon. I charge you both to use these gifts wisely and sparingly, and to heed my call when the Library has need of your services."

The ghost gestures at them as it speaks and they feel their talismans move in response. With a nod of its head, the Librarian vanishes, leaving the two students staring happily at the now-shimmering paper tokens in their hands.

~oOo~

Nothing for it, thinks Pavel. Going to have to do some study - never know, might do me some good, like they say.

Obtaining permission to leave the school to visit Uncle Bojek, he goes to Portside and offers to help wash the deck of one of the larger craft. Bojek isn't there, but the others are only too happy to have Pavel's assistance.

By the time the muscles in his arms are fit to pop, his head swimming with repeated castings of minor spells, Pavel reckons he has established that, even with a certain degree of Air-based enchantment, even with ropes and knots guiding the water upwards, the liquid flows downwards on a Waterday.

He'll have to see how this is of a Windsday, the day of the Disputation, and he can't say with much degree of surety, unpracticed as he is at applying his brain to the science of Logic, that his observations and arguments will actually go anywhere.

Absorbed in his thoughts as he returns to the academy, he does see Pensimmon and even notes the boy building himself up for a confrontation as Pavel approaches. Good for you, Pavel thinks as he walks past the smaller boy with nary a look.

That night, Pavel goes to bed with the novel sensation of having studied hard and learned something. Quite satisfying, he thinks to himself, still a little perplexed at Laria having failed in her mission. He has put that unfortunate episode to one side in his mind, though, bar one final thought as he falls asleep. Doubtless the little worm, whatshisname, won't have forgotten. He'll likely try to put on a show on just that topic to show Pavel up. All to the good.

The splitting headache with which Pavel wakes up (having spent the night tossing and turning with water flowing before his eyes in all directions) provides him with a stark reminder of why he usually tries to get others to do the harder thinking.

Unconvinced that this competition is really worth the effort, it takes Pavel a good while to turn his attention back to the matter. An exercise in calligraphy, however, allows his mind to turn back to the subject. Two of every three weeks, little Boffit does the exercise for him and takes a fail. Pavel hasn't quite worked out what the boy wants but the odd conversation in front of the other boys seems to keep him happy.

Enchanted water thinks Pavel. Obviously I'll need that tomorrow, at least to provide some pizzazz. Well, there's only once place to get that and Waterday is the obvious time to look for it. Once Pavel's headache has cleared up a touch he has revised his original plan, he realizes that he hasn't been thinking straight and it is actually Clayday. Well, he thinks, that's no longer really important anyway.

Finding out from Boffit when Pensimmon's afternoon break occurs, Pavel situates himself just in sight of the boy's likely path to the academy library. I reckon I know just what that one thinks of me is his thought as he coolly follows up his plan. As soon as he sees the boy, he looks shiftily about and vanishes with a slightly melodramatic (well if you're going to to employ subterfuge, you might as well do it with style) swish of his royal blue cloak.

Once at the Summoning Font, he looks about shiftily once more, flashing a grin at himself in the water, until he spies some rather unsubtle movement behind a bush. Well, here we go, he thinks, enjoying the moment. Taking his drinking canister out, he upends it to allow a small amount of water to trickle on to the path and sits on the edge of the font rather awkwardly, his hand and the canister extended behind him.

Once a little time has passed, he brings the dripping canister back up, tightens the top and hides it in his cloak. Looking about once more, he walks back the way he came, making sure, just as he passes the spot where Pensimmon is no doubt hiding, to let out a huge sigh of relief.

That evening at dinner, he catches Pensimmon staring at him with a very strange look on his face, which he quickly submerges beneath a mask of studied disinterest when he sees the older boy glancing in his direction. If Pavel hadn't already known what had been going through the jealous youngster's mind, he would have been hard-pressed to read that curious expression. As it is, he recognises it immediately: the quiet anticipation of victory.

~oOo~

The good folk of the Oldtown congregation are more than happy to listen to Eren's presentation and do their best to interrogate her about it afterwards. They also offer her lots of (often conflicting) advice about what to expect and regale her with tales of past Disputations. Unfortunately their logical acumen and ability to stay focussed leave a lot to be desired, so she eventually leaves them, still arguing about what kind of robe Saint Vannovessa would have worn, and glumly returns to the College.

ortunately an attempt to size up her opposition the next day meets with more success. She mopes around school, trying to find people who are going to the Disputation and asking them what it is like, hoping to figure out who is looking to cause trouble. She overhears a number of the participants discussing their thesis topics with their friends and makes copious mental notes about the weak points in their arguments.

Although still feeling a little anxious about her own presentation, Eren ends the day on a high, finally feeling prepared for the contest ahead. Better catch an early night, she thinks. We all have to be up before dawn...

~oOo~

Exalian, happy about his success with the Librarian, gets back to studying and writing. Later that day, he looks through his correspondance, looking to see if he's had a response from his father and family. He had been hoping that they could attend, and is looking to see if they've sent back a note saying that they'd be in attendance. He thinks about how important this sort of thing is to his father, and how his sister might attend just out of the concern she constantly shows him. His brothers, on the other hand... if they caught wind of this they might even try to sabotage him somehow...

As Exalian nears the porter's office, he remembers with a certain amount of discomfort, the rather clumsy wording of his last letter. His spirits start to sink. His father would no doubt respond to his request with his customary words of caution, perhaps even nursed into full-scale reproach by his brothers' tireless efforts to undermine him. And his sister would feel unable to attend by herself, sending only a heartfelt apology. What an idiot he had been, to even think of telling them!

"'Ullo there, young Exalian," the day-porter greets him warmly. Gully is a large, friendly man with a slightly comical cross-eyed expression and an oft-exploited weakness for pickled walnuts. "Wondered when we might be seein' you. 'Ave a letter 'ere for you. Expecting it, were you?"

"Errr... yes, yes I was - thanks!"

Feeling slightly guilty for the way that he'd snatched the letter from Gully's hands, Exalian tears it open with a sense of foreboding as he makes his way back to his room. He gradually slows to a complete halt as he reads it, eventually finding himself standing in a corridor staring stupidly at the words on the paper. He quickly reads it again, almost unable to believe his eyes.

His entire family are coming to the Disputation! Even his brothers! His father's words are brimful of paternal pride and the brief but gleeful note from his sister leaves him in no doubt as to her excitement. Gone are his feelings of trepidation, banished by this unexpected turn of events. Roll on tomorrow, he thinks. I'm ready for you now...

~oOo~