not work. Whether it did or it didn't was all the same to him.

"Feeling better, Gordo?" Master Theobald bustled about importantly, doing very little with a great deal of fuss.

"Fine, I knew you would. Too much excitement, that's all. Take your place at the far end of the table. Jon Farnish,

you take your place

there in the center. Raistlin? Where the devil-oh! There you are!" Master Theobald glared at him crossly. "What are

you doing skulking about there in the darkness? Come stand in the light like a civilized human being. You will take

your place at the far end. Yes, right there."

Raistlin moved to his assigned seat in silence. Gordo stood hunch-shouldered and glum. The laboratory was a sad

disappointment, and this was starting to look far too much like schoolwork. Gordo was bitter over the lack of a

demon.

Jon Farnish took his seat, smiling and confident, his hands folded calmly on the table in front of him. Raistlin had

never hated anyone in his life as much as he hated Jon Farnish at that moment.

Every organ in Raistlin's body was tangled up with every other organ. His bowels squirmed and wrapped around

his stomach, his heart lurched and pressed painfully against his lungs. His mouth was dry, so dry his throat closed

and set him coughing. His palms were wet. He wiped his hands surreptitiously on his shirt.

Master Theobald sat at the head of the table. He was grave and solemn and appeared to take exception to the

grinning Jon Famish. He frowned and tapped his finger on the table. Jon Farnish, realizing his mistake, swallowed

his grin and was immediately as grave and solemn as a cemetery owl.

"That's better," said the master. "This test you are about to take is quite a serious matter, as serious as the Test

you will take when you are grown and prepared to advance through the various ranks of magical knowledge and

power. I repeat, this test is every bit as serious, for if you do not pass the one, you will never have a chance to take

the other."

Gordo gave a great, gaping yawn.

Master Theobald cast him a reproving glance, then continued. "It would be advisable if we could give this test to

every child who enrolls in one of the mage schools prior to his or her entrance. Unfortunately, that is not possible. In

order to take this test, you must possess a considerable amount of arcane knowledge. Thus the conclave has deemed

that a student should have at least six years of study before taking the elementary test. Those who have completed

six years will be given the elementary test even if they have previously shown neither talent nor inclination."

Theobald knew, but did not say, that the failed student would then be placed under surveillance, watched

throughout

the rest of his life. It was improbable, but such a failure might become a renegade wizard, one who refused to follow

the laws of magic as handed down and adjudicated by the conclave. Renegade wizards were considered extremely

dangerousrightly so-and were hunted by the members of the conclave. The boys knew nothing about renegade

wizards, and Master Theobald wisely refrained from mentioning it. Gordo would have been a nervous wreck the

remainder of his existence.

"The test is simple for one who possesses the talent, extremely difficult for one who does not. Every person

wanting to advance in the study of magic takes the same elementary test. You are not casting a spell, not even a

cantrip. It will take many more years of study and hard work before you have the discipline and control necessary to

cast the most rudimentary of magical spells. This test merely determines whether or not you have what was called in

the old days 'the god's gift.'"

He was referring to the old gods of magic, three cousins: Solinari, Lunitari, Nuitari. Their names were all that was

left of them, according to most people on Ansalon. Their names clung to their moons, to the silver moon, the red, and

the supposed black moon.

Wary of public opinion, aware that they were not universally liked or trusted, the wizards took care not to become

involved in religious arguments. They taught their pupils that the moons influenced magic much the way they

influenced the tides. It was a physical phenomenon, nothing spiritual or mystical about it.

Yet Raistlin wondered. Had the gods truly gone from the world, leaving only their lights burning in night's

window? Or were those lights glints from immortal, ever-watchful eyes? ...

Master Theobald turned to the wooden shelves behind him, opened a drawer. He drew out three strips of lamb's

skin, placed a strip in front of each boy. Jon Famish was taking this quite seriously now, after the master's speech.