Denied any affection by those around her, Raven had retreated into her fantasies. Her mother had insisted that she learn to read, believing it was prerequisite for anyone hoping to someday move among the nobler set, and Raven proved to be an eager student. Quickly mastering the basics, she devoured any text or writing that came her way, and took to writing her own when the limited supply of new material was exhausted.

Turning a blind eye to her actual surroundings, Raven fashioned a dream world she could retreat to at will, a world built from bits and pieces she had heard or read about, other lands and the Isthmus's various city-states. The nearest city to her little village was Felk, where her mother had once lived with her father. It was an old city, and a large one, and thus fascinating to the lonesome, homely girl.

There was one fantasy in particular that she cherished and held dear: Someday she would seek out her father, and he would shower on her the affection and approval that her mother never gave her.

That fantasy had particular allure, because, if her mother were to be believed at all, her father was none other than Lord Matokin himself.

As early as Raven could remember, the mage was known as one of the most powerful men in Felk. Now the entire city-state belonged to him. He had risen to power rapidly, promising great things for Felk's future, promising to expand the state's territory.

The people had embraced him, investing him with the power to build up the military. Matokin was a magician and did nothing to hide his prowess at wizardry. In fact, he displayed it boldly, despite the Isthmus's cultural tradition of shunning the art. Magic, he had promised, was the key to Felk's ultimate triumph. The people believed his promises, and look how mighty Felk had grown! The army had gone southward, capturing other cities, swelling Felk's borders.

The very thought of being accepted by this potent man as his daughter was enough to give Raven added determination to see her dream come true.

When she had finally announced her intention to travel to Felk and apply to the school for magicians that Matokin had founded, there was surprisingly little resistance. Her mother had long since given up any hope of her daughter becoming a beauty and was increasingly at a loss to envision a role for her in life.

Raven's idea, though something her mother had never considered herself, had no small merit. Even if her daughter proved to have little or no talent for the magical arts, there was a far greater chance of her meeting someone to take care of her in Felk than if she remained where she was. As such, she sent Raven off with a small but respectable purse of silver that she had been saving, and far more enthusiasm than Raven had ever seen her display in the past.

Folklore had it that natural magical ability tended to appear most often among the nobility. This was supported by the fact that Matokin's closest political underlings were almost entirely picked from Felk's aristocracy. However, hidden talents turned up in odd places, and this seemed particularly true of magic.

Raven rested her head briefly on her arms and smiled at the memory of her own naïveté when she had arrived in Felk and first presented herself at the Academy for testing. She recalled being puzzled when

the testers showed surprise at her voluntary effort to enroll.

Of course, at that time, she was unaware of the rumors that were now virtually accepted as fact. Specifically, that those having some capacity for magic, but of insufficient degree to invest training in, had a way of disappearing or suffering fatal accidents shortly after they were rejected.

It seemed that Matokin was disinclined to have unaffiliated magic potential wandering the lands he controlled, however minor that potential was deemed to be. As a result, the number of those willingly submitting to the testing dwindled to a trickle and finally all but ceased entirely, requiring the implementation of roaming testers to find new students for the Academy. These feared individuals traveled the countryside encompassing Felk.

Far from being repelled by these methods, Raven was struck with awe. How powerful a man he must indeed be, how sure of his vision, to act so drastically and decisively.

The Academy itself was a grim affair, a campus more resembling a fortress or prison, than a school. A high stone wall circled it, and the buildings within those walls that held classrooms and living quarters had a dull sameness about them.

The growing empire needed magicians, and students were hurried and badgered through their lessons and tests to fill that need. Felk was growing. The war had begun its southward push to take all of the Isthmus; for that was Matokin's goal. It was a heady thought, an exciting time to be alive ... if one could remain so.

What was more, as they were learning to manage and control the powerful forces of wizardry, they had to also constantly affirm and reaffirm their loyalty to Matokin.

Students were bound to the Academy by blood vows, literal ones, where blood was taken from a deliberately pricked finger, labeled with the student's name, and stored. It was said the blood could be used to bring harm or death to its source from then on, no matter where he or she was. It was a fine means of encouraging loyalty.

Raven, of course, had gladly surrendered her sample. She was already bound to Matokin by blood, she thought secretly, or at least, so she believed. Let her mother have been right about that one thing!

The students were also encouraged to inform on each other and even on their instructors, reporting any comment or action nonsupportive of empire policy, no matter how innocent or jesting. If it was learned that a student had failed to report such a comment, they were judged as or more guilty than the person offering the original offense.

At the age of nineteen, after two years of training, Raven was adept at dealing with the wariness and backbiting that was so pervasive in the Academy. If anything, her childhood had given her a head start at adapting. She didn't have to unlearn the habits of friendship. The bullies at the Academy weren't especially different from the ones in her home village, so they were fairly easy to ignore when they weren't directly harassing her.

She certainly had no difficulty devoting herself entirely to Matokin and the empire policies he set forth through his administrators. Before arriving at Felk, she had decided to keep her belief that she was his daughter a secret. To announce it upon her arrival would appear too much like she was trying to curry favor.

Instead, she sought to be noticed for her devotion and growing skills. When and if she was ever singled out for his personal notice, that would be the time to mention her kinship. More than anything, Raven wanted her sire to be proud of her. Keeping her relationship to him a secret until she had proven herself could only intensify that moment.

Raven's head came up with a start. There was predawn light showing in the corridor outside her cubicle! Against all her good intentions, she had dozed off.

Panic and self-recriminations were useless. Her disciplined mind swung smoothly into dealing with this new set of circumstances. She had yet to master yesterday's lesson, a slightly more powerful version of the static electricity spell she'd already learned. If a test were sprung upon the class, she would perform poorly.

For her own safety and continuation at the school, she would have to gain some time. Perhaps some kind of a diversion.

She could denounce someone. She always kept a few choice incidents in reserve that she could produce if necessary, and the removal of a student or instructor usually threw the Academy into a turmoil for at least one day. Still, if one did that too frequently, it simply tended to cast suspicion on the accuser.