strength.
But how could he use that to tame the dragon-sized pile of books and scrolls he was supposed to get through?
Every step closer to his room seemed to bring him closer to that doom . . . when he spied Estasia lurking near-by, trying hard not to look like she was lurking.
Tyndal grinned. He might despair of learning the secrets of an untamed universe, but some things he could predict – like the effect a deft display of swordplay could have on a girl.
“That was . . . interesting ,” she admitted, as she caught up with him.
“Just a little exercise,” he dismissed. “It keeps me from going crazy here.”
“Why would you go crazy here? ” she asked, confused. “This is about the most wonderful place there is!”
“Wonderful? If you’re a bookworm, perhaps. After three hours of reading I’m ready to claw at the inside of my own skull. I prefer a more active life.”
“I prefer to understand the secrets of the universe,” she riposted.
“You’d get along well with my fellow apprentice then. Rondal of Sevendor. Sir Rondal,” he corrected. “Also one of the Spellmonger’s apprentices. The better one, to hear him tell it.”
“Then I take it your master doesn’t put a premium on swordplay?” she asked with a shy smile.
“Oh, he does,” Tyndal admitted, enjoying her company, “but he’s even more concerned with our academics. Apparently slaughtering legions of goblins and the odd troll just isn’t enough for the old man, these days,” he said, philosophically.
Estasia laughed, her dimples dancing across her cheek. “You haven’t really slaughtered a troll . . . have you?”
“Close enough,” Tyndal said, glumly. “Really, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Trolls stink. So do goblins, for that matter. But Master Minalan is right: I do need to learn this stuff. More of this stuff. It’s amazing what I can do, but I’m starting to . . . “
“ . . . recognize the limits of your education?” she finished, diplomatically.
“ ‘. . . realize what an idiot I am’, is what I was going to say,” he admitted. “But I like your version better.” She looked sympathetic, surprisingly enough.
With a start he realized he was inadvertently following Sire Rose’s advice again, this time Law number Nine: For best effect, the youth should demonstrate to a maid that their hearts can find connection, should he desire to proceed further on the Road to Love.
“You just have to relax,” she advised. “Quit worrying about the exam and learn the material. As Mistress Quentine says, ‘no one who has mastered the subject should ever have to worry about a test’.”
“Oh. Perfect. All I have to do is wake up as an adept tomorrow, then . . .” he moaned. “I can’t master one discipline, much less all this . . . this . . . this arcane stuff!”
“Just relax,” she repeated. “You’ll get it.”
He stared up at the tower he had to climb to begin his fight against the book dragon. “I hope you’re right. Otherwise . . . well, I hope someone somewhere needs a good stableboy.”
* * *
* * *
“I hear you were busy on campus after our meeting today,” Rondal remarked, looking up from his book at the room’s lone table.
“You mean the practice yard?” Tyndal asked, casually. “Why, were you there?”
“Me? No! I’ve had enough of that madness for a while. I was studying. And my point, oh senior apprentice, was that you should have been, too.”
“Hey! They told me I could practice a little! It keeps my head from exploding from the pressure!” Tyndal shot back, defensively.
“Practice, yes. Put on a bloody entertainment? I don’t think that’s what they had in
But how could he use that to tame the dragon-sized pile of books and scrolls he was supposed to get through?
Every step closer to his room seemed to bring him closer to that doom . . . when he spied Estasia lurking near-by, trying hard not to look like she was lurking.
Tyndal grinned. He might despair of learning the secrets of an untamed universe, but some things he could predict – like the effect a deft display of swordplay could have on a girl.
“That was . . . interesting ,” she admitted, as she caught up with him.
“Just a little exercise,” he dismissed. “It keeps me from going crazy here.”
“Why would you go crazy here? ” she asked, confused. “This is about the most wonderful place there is!”
“Wonderful? If you’re a bookworm, perhaps. After three hours of reading I’m ready to claw at the inside of my own skull. I prefer a more active life.”
“I prefer to understand the secrets of the universe,” she riposted.
“You’d get along well with my fellow apprentice then. Rondal of Sevendor. Sir Rondal,” he corrected. “Also one of the Spellmonger’s apprentices. The better one, to hear him tell it.”
“Then I take it your master doesn’t put a premium on swordplay?” she asked with a shy smile.
“Oh, he does,” Tyndal admitted, enjoying her company, “but he’s even more concerned with our academics. Apparently slaughtering legions of goblins and the odd troll just isn’t enough for the old man, these days,” he said, philosophically.
Estasia laughed, her dimples dancing across her cheek. “You haven’t really slaughtered a troll . . . have you?”
“Close enough,” Tyndal said, glumly. “Really, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Trolls stink. So do goblins, for that matter. But Master Minalan is right: I do need to learn this stuff. More of this stuff. It’s amazing what I can do, but I’m starting to . . . “
“ . . . recognize the limits of your education?” she finished, diplomatically.
“ ‘. . . realize what an idiot I am’, is what I was going to say,” he admitted. “But I like your version better.” She looked sympathetic, surprisingly enough.
With a start he realized he was inadvertently following Sire Rose’s advice again, this time Law number Nine: For best effect, the youth should demonstrate to a maid that their hearts can find connection, should he desire to proceed further on the Road to Love.
“You just have to relax,” she advised. “Quit worrying about the exam and learn the material. As Mistress Quentine says, ‘no one who has mastered the subject should ever have to worry about a test’.”
“Oh. Perfect. All I have to do is wake up as an adept tomorrow, then . . .” he moaned. “I can’t master one discipline, much less all this . . . this . . . this arcane stuff!”
“Just relax,” she repeated. “You’ll get it.”
He stared up at the tower he had to climb to begin his fight against the book dragon. “I hope you’re right. Otherwise . . . well, I hope someone somewhere needs a good stableboy.”
* * *
* * *
“I hear you were busy on campus after our meeting today,” Rondal remarked, looking up from his book at the room’s lone table.
“You mean the practice yard?” Tyndal asked, casually. “Why, were you there?”
“Me? No! I’ve had enough of that madness for a while. I was studying. And my point, oh senior apprentice, was that you should have been, too.”
“Hey! They told me I could practice a little! It keeps my head from exploding from the pressure!” Tyndal shot back, defensively.
“Practice, yes. Put on a bloody entertainment? I don’t think that’s what they had in