"Is this where Justarius lives, then?" he asked.

Esme smiled. "Now, what use would a mage have for living among snobbish nobles?"

Guerrand reddened. Lyim seized the opportunity. "I couldn't agree with you more. However, Guerrand here is a nobleman in his own lands and has a hard time understanding the plight of the toiling classes. I myself have tried to help him in that regard during our travels."

Guerrand sucked in a breath.

Esme, however, looked bemused. "Don't be ridiculous. It's an occupational consideration, not a class one. I, too, am considered to be of noble birth in my homeland."

"Amazing!" said Lyim, trying desperately to recover. "And yet you're willing to serve as a guide for two hopeful apprentice mages here in Palanthas."

Her eyes narrowed angrily. "I am no more a servant than you, sir, and likely your superior at that. I am senior apprentice to Justarius and am preparing to take the Test at the Tower of High Sorcery within the year, which is more than you can say, I'm sure."

Guerrand was stunned into silence. Though he'd said nothing, he, too, had assumed Esme was a servant in Justarius's household.

Lyim found his voice first. "A female mage?" he cried. "What a wonderful notion."

Esme's honey-colored eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Are you too bigoted to believe that LaDonna, the woman you both surely met at Wayreth, is the mistress of the Order of Black Robes?" Then, in a gesture both apprentices were beginning to expect, Esme lifted her chin and stormed away from them.

Guerrand could see from his expression that Lyim was considering going after her, likely to explain his position in some way that would only get him further into trouble. Guerrand laid a firm hand on his friend's arm. "I'd let it drop if I were you, Lyim. We both seem to have trouble saying the right thing to her. Perhaps we'd be wiser to listen more and talk less."

Frowning, Lyim shrugged. "I've tried everything else," he agreed. The gaze he locked on Esme's swaying back was half irritation, half admiration. "I tell you truthfully, Guerrand, I am not accustomed to such opinionated, standoffish maids." He gave a devilish grin. "She's a spicy challenge, that one. What was her name again?"

"Esme," Guerrand supplied quietly. Considering Lyim's good looks, he was quite certain his friend was indeed more used to fending off women than pursuing them. For some reason he couldn't explain, Guerrand felt his mood sink as once more he was forced to follow Lyim in pursuit of Esme.

The rest of the tour went a little better. After allowing the starving apprentices to stop and purchase hot pasties from a street vendor, Esme led them to the Central Plaza before the palace of the lord of Palanthas. The square, though meticulously landscaped with hedges and perennial flowers, was not unlike others of its kind. It was more remarkable for the buildings that flanked it. To the north on a small rise nearer the bay stood the palace Guerrand and Lyim had first noticed from the mountains above the city.

Guerrand could hardly compare the palace to Castle DiThon. It was like contrasting a rose with a dandelion. Though of a comparable size-at least one hundred rods wide-the masonry was a work of art. Whereas DiThon's walls were rough-cut stones, all approximately the same size, linked by crumbling mortar, the marble stones in the walls of the palace were obviously cut with careful precision. Each fit perfectly next to its neighbor, without gaps or fill.

Esme took note of his wondrous examination. "Dwarven made," she offered. "From buildings to brooms, no other race pays such attention to detail in its craftsmanship."

The palace rose up more than four stories. Its gracefully vaulted roof doubled that height and was capped off by a delicate-looking turret room and spire.

"The owner must be obscenely wealthy," observed Lyim.

"Amothus, lord of Palanthas, resides there, as have the lords of Palanthas for centuries. Its upkeep is the responsibility of the city."

"What does a 'lord of Palanthas' do to deserve to live in such splendor?" asked Lyim.

"He and the city senate rule Palanthas. During public events, festivals, emergencies, he speaks to the citizenry from that velvet-draped balcony facing the plaza on the third floor."

Esme gave them a few moments to gaze before directing their attention to an ancient building on the southern edge of the plaza. "That is the Great Library of Palanthas. If you are wise and study hard, it will be as much your home as the residence of your respective masters-once you're able to find them." One side of her lip pulled up into a smug smile.

The library was an immense, relatively simple building of marble. A short, wide, half circle of steps led to a glass-paned entry way in the center. Lengthy annexes jutted back from the square on both ends.

Esme pointed a slender finger to the left wing. "That's the only section open to the public. The rest is the private library of Astinus, who, as even you two neophytes must know, is the ageless chronicler of Krynn's history. He is most unforgiving of intrusion, so do us all a favor and remember to use the smaller entrance on the east wing."

Lyim's attention had already been diverted to the far right of the plaza. "What is that?" he gasped.

"That, my good apprentices, is what is left of one of the Towers of High Sorcery." Rocking back on her heels, Esme shivered. "Hideous, isn't it?"

Guerrand thought that, and about one hundred other ugly words. Amidst the shimmering white radiance of buildings stood a single tower of black marble. It fairly radiated a feeling of foreboding. Minarets to match those of the city gates must once have adorned the sides of the central tower like miniature flames. They were now crumbled and caved in, like empty eye sockets. The main tower was surrounded by a similarly black fence. Something fluttered like a huge bird from the fence's gate.

"What happened to it?" breathed Guerrand.

"I've already lost precious study time to this tour," sighed Esme, at last explaining her demeanor. "It may as well include a history lesson. It's not a story any mage likes to tell-or to hear. But it is necessary to understand the place of magic in the world today. You do, of course, know what caused the Cataclysm."

"Of course!" said Lyim. "As the power of mages grew and threatened to overshadow that of priests, the gods became jealous of mortal wizards. The wizards were too proud of their might to curb it themselves, as the gods demanded, so the gods nearly destroyed the world, completely disrupting the study and progress of magic, and withdrawing power from their priests, as well, to hinder the world's recovery as much as possible."

Esme frowned. "Many believe that. Let me try to repeat what I was told by Astinus himself, shortly after I came to Palanthas." She drew a deep breath, then took a seat on the steps of the palace, indicating with a wave of her hand that Guerrand and Lyim should do the same.

"During the Age of Might, nearly three hundred fifty years ago, the kingpriest of Istar became suspicious of everything. He gave his fears a name: magic-users. He didn't understand their powers-more vast than anything we can even imagine now-and he felt threatened.

"Already striving to purge the world of what he considered to be all but followers of Good, the kingpriest's fear of mages was further fueled by the fact that they allowed among their ranks representatives of all three powers in the universe-the White, Red, and Black Robes. The kingpriest did not understand what the orders knew best-as Astinus put it, "The universe swings in a balance between Good, Neutral, and Evil; to disturb the balance is to invite destruction.'