His highborn hallmates stared long enough for Aeron's face to flush red. Melisanda eventually took pity on him. "Do you know anything of the alliances of the land, Aeron?" she asked quietly.

"I've never had cause to concern myself with such matters." In rustic Maerchlin, the great alliances and intrigues had seemed a thousand miles distant. A peasant or lowborn freeholder such as Aeron was so far removed from the affairs of lords and kings that it was useless to waste thought on the matter, but here things were far different.

"Think on it, Aeron," Melisanda said, lowering her voice. "Which cities lead Chessenta today?"

"Cimbar and Akanax, of course. Their alliance defeated Soorenar and Luthcheq. They're the only strong cities left."

"And with no foes to ally against, what is there to bind them together?"

"Nothing, I suppose. But what does this have to do with Dalrioc of Soorenar? His city was Cimbar's rival before the Time of Troubles, but it's been ruined by Akanax."

"You forget that Soorenar was always a wealthy city," Baldon interjected. "Its might is in the coffers of its merchants, not its strength of arms. The Corynians have rebuilt the city very quickly."

"The alliance between Akanax and Cimbar is a thing of the past. And the fragile truce that exists now might be blown away by a strong wind. Now do you understand?" Melisanda said.

Aeron's head swam. So Cimbar as a city-state teetered precariously between one rival-Akanax-and one enemy-Soorenar-just as the Sceptanar himself faced the opposition of the city's demagogues and the censure of the noble senate. He nodded slowly, his eyes on Dalrioc. "Akanax and Cimbar balance in the scales. A resurgent Soorenar might tip them. And so Dalrioc holds court in Cimbar's College of Mages." Aeron grimaced; he couldn't have picked a more powerful enemy if he had tried.

He methodically attacked his food for a time, mindful of his common manners. The novices ate at trestle tables at the end of refectory. The students shared smaller tables in the center of the room, and beyond the tables held by the students stood the high table of the hall, where the masters ate. Aeron counted twenty-six seats at the head of the hall, but only about half were occupied. While he watched, a master in a yellow robe paused by the table of the Sword Hall students to speak with Dalrioc. "So if Dalrioc is here to entertain offers of alliance against Akanax," Aeron said, "why isn't he guesting in the palace of the Sceptanar?"

"Because the Sceptanar wants no part of the Corynians or Soorenar," Eldran replied, a little too loudly. "As soon as Soorenar chooses a side, Akanax will be forced to find other allies like Mordulkin or Airspur, and that means war all across Chessenta. But Cimbar's senators, and even some of the demagogues, disagree with the Sceptanar's stance. There's talk that the Sceptanar won't hold his seat for long." The black looks he received from his neighbors embarrassed the enthusiastic apprentice into a self-conscious silence. Flushing, he shifted in his seat and leaned closer to Aeron, lowering his voice. "Or so it's said, anyway. Some of the masters belong to parties opposed to the Sceptanar," he continued. "If they overthrow Cimbar's king, who knows what might happen?"

Factions opposed to the Sceptanar? Foreign intrigue? Wizards shifting from party to party like children picking sides for a game of hide-and-seek? Wizardry seemed simple by comparison! Aeron chewed slowly, thinking. "How does anything get done?"

"In the college, the Sceptanar's men decide the issues. The senators and the demagogues oppose each other, so Lord Telemachon and the other masters who support Cimbar's king throw their weight from one side to the other," said Melisanda. "Most of the students are noble-born, and they choose sides as well."

"Which masters belong to which factions?"

Melisanda glanced around and lowered her voice. "You don't want to speculate too openly, but here's where matters stand. The High Masters of Alteration, Conjuration, and Necromancy are from families that support the senate over the Sceptanar. Five of the lesser masters from these schools are in this camp, too. Some favor peace with Akanax, and others a new alliance with Soorenar.

"The Masters of Illusion, Invocation, and Enchantment are populists who favor the Mob. Seven lesser masters in these schools stand with them. The demagogues agitate for war with Akanax and the overthrow of the Sceptanar.

"Finally, Telemachon-he's the Master of Divination, you might recall-the Master Librarian, and the Master of Abjuration are the Sceptanar's men. They lean toward honoring our truce with King Gorman tor of Akanax."

Aeron eyed the mages and archmages Melisanda had pointed out. "Where do we fit in?"

"Until we're students, we don't matter," Baldon said. "And don't worry about it, Aeron. It's all scheming and double-talk. It's not as if they're going to start slinging spells at any moment. They've been at this for a very long time."

Eldran looked up from beside him and jabbed an elbow into Baldon's arm. "Whoops! Stop talking about it. Seara's coming to join us."

The camaraderie of the novices faded as a heavyset young woman in a tabard and cap of green sat down at the head of their table. She eyed the nearby novices with contempt, ignoring Aeron, then turned her attention to her dinner. Slowly the fish resumed their subdued conversations, taking care to ensure that Seara was not disturbed.

"Are we allowed to speak freely at the table?" Aeron asked Melisanda quietly.

"Yes, although it's a good idea never to say anything about a student or a master when we're chaperoned. The students take turns supervising us."

"Why?"

"To make sure that we don't disgrace Sword Hall by doing something that draws a master's attention to our table," Melisanda replied with a tight smile. "Students never brace you up when a master's present, since it wouldn't be proper to involve a real wizard in something so insignificant as correcting a novice's behavior. But you can bet that students remember everything you do wrong and take it out on you later."

After the evening meal, Aeron and his fellows returned to the Students' Hall for a few hours' study. Both novices and students alike had dozens of thick tomes cluttering their rooms and attacked them with desperate energy until late in the evening. Melisanda retired to her studies, but Baldon and Eldran remained in Aeron's room to help him memorize the names of every master, as well as the students of Sword Hall. Afterward they talked late into the night while arranging Aeron's few belongings.

Aeron found himself yawning continuously. It had been a long day, and he finally turned in after midnight. After Baldon and Eldran left, he extinguished the lamp and dropped onto the simple mattress. Although his limbs trembled with physical and nervous exhaustion, Aeron could not sleep; his mind raced as he grappled with everything that he'd seen and learned during the day. But eventually fatigue won, and he drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

Over the next few days, Aeron attended his first lessons at the College of Mages. The novices of Sword Hall divided their day into a morning and an afternoon class and had formal classes and lectures eight days out of the ten-day week. Each of the disciplines of magic was discussed at least once per week by a master garbed in the colors of the school he represented. Other lectures touched on history, ancient languages, the natural world, and other arcane topics. As promised, Lord Telemachon lectured on divinations the second day of Aeron's schooling. The old master ignored Aeron throughout the entire lecture.

Aeron was surprised to see no sign of the students in these lectures, but he soon found out that students did not study alongside novices. They met with the masters in smaller groups at infrequent intervals; for the most part, they pursued their own courses of study. And now that he knew what to look for, he began to spot signs of the partisanship dividing the college. More than a few masters and students went out of their way to associate with their fellows and snub colleagues belonging to a rival party. Tension and distrust were a way of life within the ivy-covered walls.