Somebody laughed. Frowning in anger, the master sought the culprit, who immediately hushed and ducked

behind one of his fellows. The others were silent. Certain that peace was restored, Theobald looked back at his

pupils.

"I trust you two do not feel the same way?"

Jon Farnish smiled. "I look forward to this test, Master."

Raistlin hated Jon Farnish, could have slain him in that instant. He wanted to have spoken those words!

Spoken them with that casual tone and careless confidence. Instead, Raistlin could only fumble and stammer, "I

... I am ... am ready...."

Master Theobald sniffed as if he very much doubted this statement. "We will see. Come along."

He shepherded them out of the common room, the wretched Gordo sniveling and protesting, Jon Farnish eager

and grinning, as if this were playtime, and Raistlin so wobbly in the knees that he could barely walk.

He saw his life balanced on this moment, like the dagger Caramon stood on its point on the kitchen table.

Raistlin imagined being turned out of the school tomorrow morning, sent home with his small bundle of clothes

in disgrace. He pictured the boys lining the walkway, laughing and hooting, celebrating his downfall. Returning

home to Caramon's bluff and bumbling attempts to be sympathetic, his mother's relief, his father's pity.

And what would be his future without the magic?

Again Raistlin went cold, cold all over, cold and ice-hard with the terrible knowledge of himself.

Without the magic, there could be no future.

Master Theobald led them through the library, down a hallway to a spell-locked door leading to the master's

private quarters. All the boys knew where the door led, and it was postulated among them that the master's

laboratory -of which he often spoke-could be reached through this door. One night a group of the boys, led by Jon

Farnish, had made a futile at-

tempt to dispel the magic of the lock. Jon had been forced to explain the next day how he had burned his fingers.

The three boys in tow behind him, the master came to a halt in front of the door. He mumbled in a low voice

several words of magic, words wh ich Raistlin, despite the turmoil in his soul, made an automatic, concentrated

effort to overhear.

He was not successful. The words made no sense, he could not think or concentrate, and they left his brain

almost the moment they entered. He had nothing in his brain, nothing at all. He could not call to mind how to

spell his own name, must less the complicated language of magic.

The door swung open. Master Theobald caught hold of Gordo, who was taking advantage of the spell being

cast to do a disappearing act of his own. Master Theobald dug his pudgy fingers into Gordo's shoulder, thrust

him, blubbering and whimpering, into a sitting room. Jon Farnish and Raistlin followed after. The door swung

shut behind them.

"I don't want to do it! Please don't make me! A demon'll grab me sure!" Gordo howled.

"A demon! What nonsense! Stop this sniveling at once, you stupid boy!" Master Theobald's hand, from force

of habit, reached for the willow branch, but he'd left that in the schoolroom. His voice hardened. "I shall slap you

if you don't control yourself this instant."

The master's hand, though empty, was broad and large. Gordo glanced at it and fell silent, except for a snivel

now and then.

"Won't do no good, me going down there," he said sullenly. "I'm rotten at this here magic."

"Yes, you are," the master agreed. "But your parents have paid for this, and they have a right to expect you to

at least make the attempt."

He moved a fancifully braided rug aside with his foot, revealing a trapdoor. This, too, was wizard-locked.

Again the master mumbled arcane words. He passed his hand three times over the lock, reached down, clasped

hold of an iron ring, and lifted.

The trapdoor opened silently. A set of stone stairs led down into warm, scented darkness.

"Gordo and I will go first," Master Theobald said, adding caustically, "to clear the place of demons."

Grasping the unfortunate Gordo by the scruff of his neck, Theobald dragged him down the stairs. Jon Farnish

clattered

eagerly after him. Raistlin started to follow. His foot was on the top stair when he froze.