was still pondering things when the first, the eldest boy in the school, entered the room, abashed and

embarrassed.

"Gordo, sir." The boy made an awkward bow.

"And so, Gordo, my boy," said Antimodes, embarrassed himself but attempting to conceal it, "how do you

plan to incorporate the use of magic into your everyday life?"

"Well, s-sir," Gordo stammered, obviously baffled, "I don't rightly know."

Antimodes frowned.

The boy grew defensive. "I'm only here, sir, 'cause my ma makes me come. I don't want to have nothing to do

with magic."

"What do you want to do?" Antimodes asked, surprised.

"I want to be a butcher," Gordo said promptly.

Antimodes sighed. "Perhaps you should have a talk with

your mother. Explain to her how you feel."

The boy shook his head, shrugged. "I've tried. It's all right, sir. I'll stay here until I'm old enough to be

apprenticed, then I'll cut and run."

"Thank you," Antimodes said dryly. "We'll all appreciate that. Please tell the next boy to come in."

By the end of five interviews, Antimodes's antipathy for Master Theobald had changed to the most profound

pity. He also felt alarmed and dismayed. He had learned more in fifteen minutes talking to these five boys than

he had in five months of traveling thro ughout Ansalon.

He was well aware-he and Par-Salian had often discussed it-that mages were viewed with suspicion and

distrust by the general populace. That was as it should be. Wizards should be surrounded with an aura of

mystery. Their spellcasting should inspire awe and a proper amount of fear.

He found no awe among these boys. No fear. Not even much

respect. Antimodes might blame Master Theobald and did blame the master for some of the problem. Certainly

he did nothing to inspire his students, to lift them from the common everyday muck of ignorance in which they

were wallowing. But there was more to it than that.

There were no children of nobles in this school. Insofar as Antimodes knew, there were few children of nobles

in any of the schools of magic in Ansalon. Only among the elves was the study of the arcane considered suitable

for the upper class, and even they were discouraged from devoting their lives to it. King Lorac of Silvanesti had

been one of the last elves of royal blood known to have taken the Test. Most were like Gilthanas, youngest son of

the Speaker of the Sun and Stars of Qualinesti. Gilthanas could have been an excellent mage, had he taken the

time to study the art. But he merely dabbled in magic, refused to take the Test, refused to commit himself.

As to humans, these children were sons of middle-class merchants, most of them. That wasn't bad-Antimodes

himself had come from such a background. He at least had known what he wanted and had been willing to fight

for it, his parents having been completely opposed to the very idea of his studying magic. But these children had

been sent here because their parents had no idea what else to do with them. They were sent to study magic

because they weren't considered good enough to do anything else.

Were wizards truly held in such low regard?

Depressed, Antimodes huddled down in the overstuffed chair, as far from the fire as he could drag it, and

mulled this over in his mind. The depression had been growing on him ever since his trip to Solamnia.

The knights and their families had been polite, but then they would always be polite to any well-to-do, fairspoken

traveling human stranger. They had invited Antimodes to stay in their dwellings, they had fed him roast

meats, fine wines, and entertained him with minstrels. They had not ever once discussed magic, had never asked

him to assist them with his spellcasting, or made reference to the fact that he was a wizard. If he brought it up,

they smiled at him vaguely and then quickly changed the subject. It was as if he had some type of deformity or

disease. They were too polite, too well bred to shun him or openly revile him for it. But he was well aware that

they averted their glances when they thought he wasn't looking. In truth, he disgusted them.

And he disgusted himself.He saw himself for the first time through the eyes of these children. He had tamely gone

along with the knights' cold-shouldered treatment, had even curried their favor in a most undignified manner.He

had suppressed who and what he was. He had not unpacked his white robes once during the trip. He had removed