Archmagus Antimodes, a wizard of the White Robes."

The boys sang out an enthusiastic greeting.

"We have been practicing our writing," said Theobald."We were just about to conclude for the day. Perhaps

you would like to see some of our work, Archmagus?"

Actually there was only one pupil in whom Antimodes was interested, but he solemnly walked up and down

the aisles and regarded with feigned interest letters that were every shape except the correct shape, and one game

of x's and o's, which the player made a vain attempt to cover up by overturning his ink bottle on top of it.

"Not bad," said Antimodes, "not bad. Quite ... creative ...

some of these." He came to Raistlin's desk-his true goal. Here

hepaused and said with sincerity, "Well done."

A boy behind Raistlin made a noise, a rude noise. Antimodes turned.

"Pardon, sir," the boy said, with apparent contriteness. "It was the cabbage for lunch."

Antimodes knew that noise hadn't been caused by cabbage. He also knew what it implied, and he immediately

realized his mistake. He remembered the ways of small boys-he had been a bit of a troublemaker himself as a

youth. He should not have praised Raistlin. The other boys were jealous and vindictive,

and Raistlin would be made to suffer.

Trying to think of some way to rectify his mistake, prepared to point out a flaw-no one was perfect, after all-

Antimodes looked back at Raistlin.

On Raistlin's thin lips was a pleased smile. One could almost call it a smirk.

Antimodes swallowed his words, with the result that he very nearly choked on them. Coughing, he cleared his

throat and walked on. He saw nothing after that. His thoughts were turned inward, and it wasn't until he came

face-to-face with Master Theobald that Antimodes realized he was still in the classroom.

He stopped short, looked up with a start. "Oh ... er ... very nice work from your pupils, Master Theobald. Very

nice. If you wouldn't mind, I should like to speak to you privately."

"I really should not leave the class...."

"Only for a moment. I'm certain these fine young gentlemen"-Antimodes gave them a smile-"will be content

to study on their own in your absence."

He was fully aware that the fine young gentlemen would probably take advantage of the opportunity to play

marbles, draw obscene pictures on their practice scrolls, and splatter each other with ink.

"Only a moment of your time, Master Theobald," Antimodes said with the utmost respect.

Scowling, Master Theobald stomped out of the classroom, leading his way into his private quarters. Here he

shut the door and faced Antimodes.

"Well, sir. Please make haste."

Antimodes could already hear the uproar break out in the classroom.

"I should like to talk to each pupil individually, if you please, Master Theobald. Ask them each a few

questions."

At this, Master Theobald's eyebrows nearly took wing and flew off his head. Then they came together over the

puffy eyelids in a suspicious frown. Never before in all his years of teaching had any archmagus ever bothered to

visit his classroom, much less demand a private chat with the students. Master Theobald could only jump to one

conclusion, and he did, landing on it squarely with both feet.

"If the conclave does not find my work to be satisfactory. .." he began in huffy tones.

"They do. Quite the contrary," Antimodes said, hastening to reassure him. "It's just some research I'm

conducting." He

waved his hand. "Investigating the philosophical reasoning that prompts young men to choose to spend their time

in this particular course of study."

Master Theobald snorted.

"Please send them in to see me one by one," said Antimodes. Master Theobald snorted again, turned on his

heel, and waddled back into the classroom.

Antimodes settled himself in a chair and wondered what in the name of Lunitari he was going to say to these

urchins. In reality, he wanted only to talk to one pupil, but he dare not single out Raistlin again. The Archmagus