glanced back fearfully to see if his sister was watching them. The door slammed shut. Her duty for the morning

done, Kitiara was going back to bed.

The children took the tree walkways as far as they could. Then, when the rope bridges came to an end, the

twins ran down a long staircase to reach the forest floor. A narrow road, little more than two wheel ruts and a

hard-baked footpath, led in the direction they were going.

The boys ate hunks of stale bread, which they had torn off a loaf that had been left out on the table.

"Look, there's blue stuff on this bread," Caramon noted, pausing b etween bites.

"It's mold," said Raistlin.

"Oh." Caramon ate the bread, mold and all, observing that it "wasn't bad, just sort of bitter."

Raistlin carefully removed the part of the bread with the mold. He studied the mold intently, then slipped the

piece inside a pouch he carried with him everywhere. By the end of the day, that pouch would be filled with

various specimens of plant and animal life. He spent his evenings studying them.

"It's a long walk to the school," Caramon stated, his bare feet scuffing up the dirt on the road. "Almost five

miles, Father says. And once you get there, you have to sit at a desk all day and not move, and they don't let you

go outside or nothing. Are you

sure you're going to like that, Raist?"

Raistlin had seen the interior of the school only once. It consisted of a large room, with no windows, so that there

were no outside distractions. The floor was stone. The desks stood high off the stone floor, so that the winter cold

would not chill their feet. The students sat on tall stools. Shelves containing jars with various herbs and other things

in them that ranged from the horrible and disgusting to the pleasant or mysterious lined the walls. These jars held

the spell components. Other shelves held scroll cases. Most of the scrolls were blank, meant for the students to write

upon. But some were not.

Raistlin thought of this quiet, dark room, the peaceful hours spent in study with no distractions from unruly

brothers, and he smiled. "I won't mind it," he said.

Caramon had picked up a stick, was slashing about with it, pretending it was a sword. "I wouldn't want to go

there. I know that. And that teacher. He has a face like a frog. He looks mean. Do you think he'll whip you?"

The teacher, Master Theobald, had indeed looked mean. Not only that, but their first meeting proved him to be

haughty, self-important, and probably less intelligent than the majority of his pupils. Unable to gain their respect, he

would almost certainly resort to physical intimidation. Raistlin had seen the long willow branch standing in a

prominent place beside the master's desk.

"If he does," Raistlin said, thinking of what Antimodes had told him, "it will be just another blow of the hammer."

"You think he'll hit you with a hammer?" Caramon demanded, horrified. He halted in the middle of the road. "You

shouldn't go to that place, Raist."

"No, that's not what I meant, Caramon," Raistlin said, trying to be patient with his twin's ignorance. After all, the

statement had been somewhat bizarre. "I'll try to explain. You fight with a stick now, but someday you'll own a

sword, a real sword, won't you?"

"You bet. Kit's going to bring me one. She'll bring you one, too, if you ask her."

"I already have a sword, Caramon," Raistlin said. "Not a sword like yours. Not one made of metal. This sword is

inside me. It's not a very good weapon right now. It needs to be hammered into shape. That's why I'm going to this

school."

"To learn to make swords?" Caramon asked, frowning with the mental effort. "Is it a blacksmith school, then?"

Raistlin sighed. "Not real swords, Caramon. Mental swords.

Magic will be my sword."

"If you say so. But anyhow, if that teacher does whip you, just tell me." Caramon clenched his fists. "I'll take

care of him. This sure is a long walk," he repeated.

"It is a long walk," Raistlin agreed. They'd gone only about a quarter of the distance, and he was already tired,

although he didn't admit it. "But you don't have to come with me, you know."

"Well, of course I do!" Caramon said, looking astonished at the idea. "What if you get attacked by goblins?

You'd need me to defend you."

"With a wooden sword," Raistlin observed dryly.