"Seregil told me that wizards come to Rhнminee to be trained," he ventured at last.

"Wizards, scholars, madmen, they come seeking the knowledge amassed and preserved by the Third Orлska. There is more than magic here, you see. We gather information of all types. Our library is the finest in the Three Lands, and the vaults below contain artifacts which predate the coming of the Hierophants."

Alec laid aside his knife. "Why is it called the Third Orлska?"

"The first mages who came here from Aurлnen were the original Orлska," Nysander explained. "It was they who first taught that knowledge is as powerful, in its own way, as any magic, and that magic without knowledge is worse than useless; it is dangerous. Later, they established the Second Orлska at Ero when magical powers became apparent among the half-blood children of Aurлnfaie and humans.

"Unfortunately, the fellowship of the Second Orлska was all but annihilated during the Great War. There have never been as many wizards since that time. Another blow befell it when Ero was destroyed.

"A terrible tragedy, so many of the ancient writings lost! Queen Tamir bequeathed this site to the surviving wizards at the founding of Rhнminee, with the understanding that they would contribute to the defense of Skala. The new alliance established at that time was deemed the Third Orлska. The Cirna Canal was one of the first demonstrations of their good faith."

"I've heard something of that. How many wizards are there now?"

"Only a few hundred in all the Three Lands now, I fear. Fewer and fewer children are being born with the power; the blood of the Aurлnfaie masters has grown thin."

"But don't the children of wizards inherit their powers?"

Nysander shook his head. "There are no children of wizards. It is perhaps the greatest price we pay for our gifts. Magical abilities demand every bit of creative force we possess. We are repaid richly with powers and long lives, but the force of Illior which gives us the ability to recreate the world around us also burns out the natural procreative forces of the body. The Immortal has never revealed why this must be so, even to the Aurлnfaie— But I am lecturing you as if you were a novice! Let us return to your room. Seregil is still deep within himself and shall likely remain so for some time, but I believe it will benefit him to have us nearby."

Nysander took down two tall goblets from a nearby shelf and handed one to Alec. The boy turned it about in disbelief, never having seen its like. Carved from flawless rock crystal, it was banded around the stem and cup with heavily embellished gold and polished red gems that glowed like wine in the firelight.

"I could just use my cup from supper," Alec protested, holding it gingerly in both hands.

"Nonsense!" Nysander grabbed up a decanter from the sideboard and headed across to the bedchamber. "I nearly lost my life acquiring them. It would be a waste not to use them."

They found Seregil still sleeping deeply.

"Let us sit close by him." Nysander gave Alec another roguish wink. "You shall surrender the chair to me out of deference to my great age. You can sit on the end of his bed. Some part of him knows we are

here and it will comfort him."

Alec settled cross-legged with his back against the footboard. Nysander filled their goblets with red wine and raised his cup at Alec.

"Drink up! This is talking wine and I know you have many more questions. I can see them swarming about like bees behind your eyes."

Alec took a long sip and felt a comfortable warmth spread through him. "I'd like to know more about that disk. What was it you called it?"

"A telesm. A magical object which has an innate power of its own that can also be used as a focus of power by one who understands its function. The poison it was coated with would aid in this, as Valerius and I discussed last night. Unfortunately, there is little more I can tell you of it."

"Well, what about that dark creature Seregil kept claiming to see? Was that real?"

The shadow of a frown flickered across Nysander's lined face. "I shall need to hear Seregil's account to be certain. Whatever the case, someone was taking a great deal of trouble and effort to find both you and the disk."

Alec looked up sharply. "You think they might still be after us?"

"Quite possibly. But you have nothing to fear, dear boy. I have placed the disk beyond their reach. If anyone was following you, I think that they found a cold trail the moment I contained it in that jar, or perhaps even when you pulled it from Seregil's neck. So long as you remain within the walls of the Orлska, an army could not get to you."

"But if Mardus is such a powerful wizard—"

"Mardus is no wizard!" Nysander fixed Alec with an appraising look. "What I tell you now must go no further, is that understood? I repeat, he is not a wizard. Mardus is one of the most powerful Plenimaran nobles, also rumored to be a bastard son of the aging Overlord. Whatever the case, he is a ruthless man of cruel and dangerous intelligence, a cunning warrior, and a known assassin. It was most unfortunate for him to have looked upon your faces that night in Wolde; let us hope he never does so again. But I did not bring you here to frighten you more than you have been these last few weeks, so I am going to ply you with more of this excellent wine and turn to less worrisome topics. Did Seregil tell you that he was once apprenticed to me?"

"No, but Micum did, back in Boersby." Alec watched the play of the firelight in the crimson depths of his cup. For all the days of talking on the Downs and after, Seregil had never once spoken of his own past. "Micum said something about it not working out."

Nysander smiled at him over the rim of his goblet.

"That, dear boy, is a magnificent understatement. No wizard ever had so devoted or disastrous a pupil! But I shall begin at the beginning. Seregil came to Idrilain's court as a poor and distant relation, exiled from his family, totally alone. At court they tried to make a page of him, but that did not last long—as you may well imagine. Next came a position as a junior scribe, I believe. Again failure. After one or two other such fiascoes, he came to my attention.

"I was delighted to get him, and could not believe my good fortune. He has the ability, you see, and he was so eager to learn. But after a few months it became apparent that something was wrong. He mastered the rudimentary disciplines with an ease which delighted us both, but as soon as we tried to move on to the higher magicks, things began to go awry."

Nysander shook his head, remembering. "At first it was simply that the spells would not come off. Or they would, but with the most unexpected results. He would try to move a small object, a salt cellar; it would overturn. He would try again and the salt would burst into flames. On the third try it might fly at his head, or mine. One day he attempted a simple messenger spell, and in the space of five minutes every spider, centipede, and earwig in the place came swarming in under the door. We began conducting his training outside after that.

"Attempting to levitate, he blew up an entire grove of trees in the park. A simple summoning, butterflies I think, and all the horses went crazy for an hour. Things soon reached such a state that whenever anything unusual happened within the Orлska grounds, we got the blame for it.

"Oh, but it was frustrating! In spite of all the blunders, all the destruction, I knew the power was there. I could feel it, even when he could not. For he did succeed now and then, but so erratically! Poor Seregil was devastated. I saw him brought to tears just trying to light a candle. Then there was the time he turned himself into a brick."

Caught sipping his wine, Alec choked as he began to laugh. He knew he shouldn't, but the wine was in him to the heart and he just couldn't help it. None of this sounded like the Seregil he knew.