Aeron struggled to master Thorass, Old Untheric, and ancient Rauric, the forgotten tongues that most of the college's masters used for the recording of spells. However, he excelled in the working of the phrases and fragments the masters used for practical demonstrations of spellcasting. Even schools with which he had little experience, such as necromancy or conjuration, he grasped quickly. In a matter of weeks, he caught up to and surpassed the most advanced novices among his hallmates.
It wasn't in Aeron's nature to be satisfied, not as long as the vast store of knowledge held within the college walls remained unconquered. Within a month of arriving, Aeron understood just how little he knew, how far he had to go, and instead of settling down to patiently journey into the realms before him, he decided to plunge ahead with inexhaustible energy. He was here to learn as much as he could; there was no point in attacking the task ahead with anything less than his complete and obsessive attention. With challenging studies to engage him, Chessenta's greatest city to explore, wealth and comfort enough to feel guilty about his good fortune, and associates who shared his intelligence and interests, Aeron was content for the moment.
But one inescapable condition ground him down every day: the spiteful malice of Dalrioc and the circle of students who followed in his wake. The Soorenaran prince had not forgotten Aeron's defiance at their first meeting, and at every opportunity, he found some way to make Aeron miserable. His room was inspected and found wanting on a regular basis. His knowledge of Chessentan history, lineage, law, and the inane trivia pertaining to the college and its former students was examined through dogged interrogations that exposed a weak chink in his armor. Aeron had never learned the histories and heroes' names that Dalrioc and his noble friends had been taught in childhood. Aeron was required to write out the rolls of kings and nobles hundreds of times and submit them to Dalrioc for review.
Aeron's only response was to immerse himself even further in his studies. His natural talent for wielding magic quickly earned him the admiration and envy of his fellow fish. Even Melisanda frequently sought out Aeron to help her study for her upcoming novitiate examination. Aeron lived for the chance to spend a quiet hour with her. Melisanda's face haunted his dreams, and it took all of his willpower to force these thoughts to the back of his mind when she was near.
On a bitterly cold evening two days before her test, he lingered after they'd finished going over the last of her spells, unwilling to return to his own quarters. "Dalrioc's waiting for me; I can just feel it," he sighed.
"I've never seen him single out a fish the way he's watching you, Aeron," Melisanda told him. "Dalrioc even arranges for other students to keep an eye on you when he has to attend a lecture or do some research."
"It's working," Aeron said bitterly. "Sooner or later I'm going to lose my temper, and then he'll really have me."
Melisanda offered a sympathetic smile. "You're something completely antithetical to what he believes about the world: a commoner who is better than he."
"I might be a better mage, Melisanda, but I don't have his wealth or his power. Why does he resent me?"
"Because Dalrioc Corynian is accustomed to being the best at whatever he turns his hand to. It's how he was raised." She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Be patient. You're as ready for a novitiate examination as I am, and once you become a student, he can't touch you."
The door thumped loudly, and Dalrioc's clear voice rang outside. "Out in the hall, fish!"
"Guess he got bored," Aeron muttered. Melisanda rolled her eyes and stood. They filed out and found Dalrioc waiting in the dark, gleaming hallway, arms crossed over his chest. He smirked with anticipation.
"Aeron, it seems that you spend a good deal of time in Melisanda's rooms," he observed. "Don't you realize that she is quite above your station?"
Aeron flushed. Dalrioc's remark cut too close to the truth. "I was helping her study," he replied.
"Ah! Well, since you have time on your hands to help your hallmates, I am certain that you won't mind running a small errand for me." Dalrioc stepped closer and sharpened his gaze. "I require a stone from the Broken Pyramid."
The Broken Pyramid? Aeron looked up. The ruins of the Untheric obelisk were avoided by all but the masters. Many precious artifacts-and sleeping dangers-were said to be lost in the blasted rubble and the catacombs beneath, but the word among the novices was to give it a wide berth. Aeron swallowed and asked, "What manner of stone?"
"About this large," the prince said, using his hands to measure an imaginary rock about the size of his two fists together. "Any one should do."
"Lord Dalrioc, the ruins of the pyramid are dangerous," Melisanda said. "Can Aeron do this in the morning?"
Dalrioc raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid that I have an immediate need for a stone in a spell I am studying. You are not a student yet, Melisanda. Do not presume to tell me how and when I should conduct my studies." He ran his eyes up and down her body, then added, "Since you are concerned for Aeron, you may join him. I don't expect you'll need a cloak if you hurry."
Melisanda glared back at the prince but held her silence. Not daring to protest any further, the two fish hurried outside into the howling night. The air was so cold that it took Aeron's breath away; on the exposed hillside, the wind scoured them with a stinging spray of needlelike ice. "Sorry I got you into this!" Aeron gasped, shouting to be heard over the wind.
"I shouldn't have opened my mouth," the girl replied. "Let's get his damned rock and get back inside. It's freezing out here!"
The sky was overcast, and the hilltop was dark. Once they left the warm yellow circle of light spilling from the windows of the Students' Hall, they could barely see their hands in front of their faces. "You know he's going to send us back at least three or four times before he gets tired of this game," Melisanda barked.
"I know. Might as well get it over with." Aeron blundered toward the skirt of rubble that surrounded the monolith, visible only as an ebon shadow in the darkness. Even with his keen elven vision, he could scarcely make out where they were going. He stumbled over some unseen obstacle on the ground and fell to his hands and knees. "Ouch! Wait a moment, Melisanda. I'll make some light."
Her teeth chattered from somewhere nearby. "Good idea. I can't see a thing."
Stone grated on stone in the darkness. A rasping growl cut through the wind's howling from somewhere ahead. Aeron suddenly felt colder, as if a ghostly hand had brushed his heart with an icy touch. He slowly rose, peering into the night. "Melisanda? What was that sound?"
Her voice was startlingly near. "I don't know. You'd better summon your light," she whispered.
Aeron nodded. He started to weave the spell, but he heard the sound of a man's voice. Something slid in the rubble. Then the sensation of magic at work tugged at Aeron's body, the powerful and desperate jolt of a mighty spell worked in haste.
Ahead of them, a brilliant flash of ruby light speared through the night, illuminating the scene. Kneeling in the apron of debris at the tower's foot, a brown-robed master with a dun hood confronted an awful beast, a doglike thing the size of a small horse. Its mouth gaped open with a double row of teeth, one set vertically across its nightmarish maw. The master's spell launched a lance of energy at the creature, a fiery bolt searing Aeron's eyes and charring stone, but the flame splashed from the beast's flanks harmlessly. As the brief flare of light died away, the creature crouched and leapt with impossible speed. The master's scream rang through the darkness as night cloaked the scene again.