mind.”
“I was just demonstrating some warmagic to the students who’d never seen it,” Tyndal explained, defensively. “Isn’t that what this place is supposed to be about? A chance to share our education? And no, I didn’t use any warwands. Just a little combat augmentation.”
Rondal snorted. “Trying to impress a skirt again, weren’t you?”
“No!” Tyndal said, sourly. Then he considered. “Well, I may have anyway, though, without really trying. You know a girl named . . . what was it . . . Est . . . Estra . . . Estasia?” he said, finally recalling it by how her lips moved when she said her own name. “Estasia, looks like an Imperial, a senior student . . .”
Rondal’s eyes bulged. “You mean Estasia of Mistalagan? ”
“I don’t know where she came from. But wherever it is, they grow big—”
“She’s from House Devarina, descended from one of the great Wenshari magical families,” Rondal explained. “Her grandfather was Remeran Ducal court mage for twenty years. I heard about her from Lady Pentandra as someone I should try to meet, if I got the chance. She’s considered something of a savant. I hear she’s almost legendary for her alchemical skills. Why?”
“She likes the way I swing a sword,” Tyndal shrugged, pleased with how impressed Rondal was with the attention he was getting.
“Estasia of Mistalagan . . . spoke to you?” Rondal repeated, his eyes wide. “She probably showed up here knowing more magic than you and I will ever learn. Ishi’s tits! Was she pretty?”
“ Gorgeous ,” sighed Tyndal. “Brown eyes that glistened like black walnut. And smart. Too smart. Smart enough to see what an idiot I am.”
“Well, that’s doesn’t take much,” Rondal dismissed. “Any idiot could see as much. But she actually came up and talked to you?”
“Yes,” Tyndal said, enjoying his fellow apprentice’s envy. “She told me I just needed to relax. Just another bit of useless advice I’ve been getting. ‘Relax’. ‘Master the subject.’ ‘Play to your strengths’.”
“ ‘Don’t be such an asshole’ ,” Rondal added in the same tone. “All brilliant bits of advice that you should really carefully consider, I agree. But Estasia of Mistalagan . . . that’s impressive ,” he admitted.
“She’s comely,” Tyndal shrugged, “but I doubt if she’s going to spoon-feed me Alchemy.”
“Not when you haven’t managed basic lesser elemental theory,” agreed Rondal. “Estasia of Mistalagan . . . she must have been impressed by your sword work. It certainly wasn’t your magic.”
“Not necessarily,” Tyndal protested. “I was doing a warmagic demonstration. Combat augmentations, perception enhancement, that sort of thing. I took out six student opponents at the same time,” he bragged, weakly.
“I’m sure they were stunning examples of manliness,” Rondal said, rolling his eyes. “And you were using warmagic, so maybe she was intrigued by the novelty.”
“She said as much.” Tyndal looked away, guiltily. “Ron, uh, I’m worried about my studying.”
“You’re chatting up Estasia of Mistalagan and you’re worried about your studies? Relax, your exams are over, for the most part,” he pointed out, turning the page. “Everything now is just absorbing information and learning new spells.”
“That’s what I mean ,” he sighed, heavily. “You’ve seen my list. It’s only gotten longer. Even with the memory spells, so I can review it later in my mind, I’m . . . well, I’m only hitting the surface.”
“Well, Estasia was right about one thing: you do need to relax. I know you want to do well, but there’s no substitute for turning pages. And no time like now to get back to it.” He pushed the thaumaturgy book Tyndal had been reading across the desk toward him.
“I know,” he sighed, as he picked up the book. “Four more weeks
“I was just demonstrating some warmagic to the students who’d never seen it,” Tyndal explained, defensively. “Isn’t that what this place is supposed to be about? A chance to share our education? And no, I didn’t use any warwands. Just a little combat augmentation.”
Rondal snorted. “Trying to impress a skirt again, weren’t you?”
“No!” Tyndal said, sourly. Then he considered. “Well, I may have anyway, though, without really trying. You know a girl named . . . what was it . . . Est . . . Estra . . . Estasia?” he said, finally recalling it by how her lips moved when she said her own name. “Estasia, looks like an Imperial, a senior student . . .”
Rondal’s eyes bulged. “You mean Estasia of Mistalagan? ”
“I don’t know where she came from. But wherever it is, they grow big—”
“She’s from House Devarina, descended from one of the great Wenshari magical families,” Rondal explained. “Her grandfather was Remeran Ducal court mage for twenty years. I heard about her from Lady Pentandra as someone I should try to meet, if I got the chance. She’s considered something of a savant. I hear she’s almost legendary for her alchemical skills. Why?”
“She likes the way I swing a sword,” Tyndal shrugged, pleased with how impressed Rondal was with the attention he was getting.
“Estasia of Mistalagan . . . spoke to you?” Rondal repeated, his eyes wide. “She probably showed up here knowing more magic than you and I will ever learn. Ishi’s tits! Was she pretty?”
“ Gorgeous ,” sighed Tyndal. “Brown eyes that glistened like black walnut. And smart. Too smart. Smart enough to see what an idiot I am.”
“Well, that’s doesn’t take much,” Rondal dismissed. “Any idiot could see as much. But she actually came up and talked to you?”
“Yes,” Tyndal said, enjoying his fellow apprentice’s envy. “She told me I just needed to relax. Just another bit of useless advice I’ve been getting. ‘Relax’. ‘Master the subject.’ ‘Play to your strengths’.”
“ ‘Don’t be such an asshole’ ,” Rondal added in the same tone. “All brilliant bits of advice that you should really carefully consider, I agree. But Estasia of Mistalagan . . . that’s impressive ,” he admitted.
“She’s comely,” Tyndal shrugged, “but I doubt if she’s going to spoon-feed me Alchemy.”
“Not when you haven’t managed basic lesser elemental theory,” agreed Rondal. “Estasia of Mistalagan . . . she must have been impressed by your sword work. It certainly wasn’t your magic.”
“Not necessarily,” Tyndal protested. “I was doing a warmagic demonstration. Combat augmentations, perception enhancement, that sort of thing. I took out six student opponents at the same time,” he bragged, weakly.
“I’m sure they were stunning examples of manliness,” Rondal said, rolling his eyes. “And you were using warmagic, so maybe she was intrigued by the novelty.”
“She said as much.” Tyndal looked away, guiltily. “Ron, uh, I’m worried about my studying.”
“You’re chatting up Estasia of Mistalagan and you’re worried about your studies? Relax, your exams are over, for the most part,” he pointed out, turning the page. “Everything now is just absorbing information and learning new spells.”
“That’s what I mean ,” he sighed, heavily. “You’ve seen my list. It’s only gotten longer. Even with the memory spells, so I can review it later in my mind, I’m . . . well, I’m only hitting the surface.”
“Well, Estasia was right about one thing: you do need to relax. I know you want to do well, but there’s no substitute for turning pages. And no time like now to get back to it.” He pushed the thaumaturgy book Tyndal had been reading across the desk toward him.
“I know,” he sighed, as he picked up the book. “Four more weeks