Tenthé woke to the sounds of someone pounding on his door.

It had the tempo and weight of an Elishua. The faint bellowing verified this assessment. He decided to trust in the room’s security and dozed a little more. Life on the street had taught him to ignore incidentals and sleep when you could.

After the pounding went from frantic to steady, Tenthé figured he’d done enough to assert his independence and got up. After washing his face and dressing, he opened the door.

Elishua was sitting with her back resting on the hinge side, using her fist as a hammer. He respected that. Maximum results for minimum effort. She stopped.

Without turning, she said, “So, I hear things didn’t go so well, yesterday.”

He saw no reason to answer.

She continued. “Today, I’ll stick with you. We need to iron out some issues and this time we’ll make sure you get through Testing.”

Tenthé stepped past her and headed out, aiming for the dining room. The rooms around him were still empty; so far no-one else had shown up, but he expected neighbors soon. It would be nice if they all got along, but he wasn’t pinning his hopes on it.

Elishua looked down at him as she matched his pace.

“We need to settle a few issues. You seem to be doing something so that everyone forgets you. This could be an advantage out there, but here it’ll be a problem. Also, about the Guardians. How do you know about them? And the mark on your arm; where did that come from?”

Tenthé pulled a crust of bread from inside his cloak, offering some to Elishua. She declined.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked.

She seemed a little taken aback.

“What do you mean?” she replied. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to attend the College? All we ask in return is that you answer a few questions.”

Tenthé glanced up at her.

“So, you run me over and then tell me I should be glad you let me stay here, and, as far as I have seen… I’m not that impressed. Not at all. A few times I’ve nearly left. I still might.”

When Elishua didn’t say anything, Tenthé wondered if he should keep pushing. In the end, he decided to let her stew. They reached the dining room, and after collecting breakfast, sat at a table in the corner. Elishua only poked at her food while Tenthé stuffed himself, as usual.

Finally, she came to a decision and asked, “Are you sure you’re only ten?”

“Maybe. That’s what everyone says. Like, I told you I can’t read? I don’t know my age ‘cause I can’t count, either.”

“What?” Elishua stared at him.

“Bear told me it’s part of why I’m the way I am. But we think we’ve found a way.”

She wasn’t listening.

“You really can’t count? Or read? We’re doomed!”

“You’re the ones who want me here, and, anyway, it doesn’t matter. We came up with a way.”

“I was sure you were lying! Everyone can read! They even teach it at the Mission. You have to be able to! You aren’t stupid.”

She stopped for a moment, then glared at him. “Hold it! How did you fill out the forms? Are you fibbing me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No. For real. I can’t read or count. It’s a pain, but that’s just is how things are.”

As she stared at him with her mouth gaping, Tenthé thought that she looked like a fish out of water. After a time, her mouth closed, and she looked away. Her gaze drifted over to the timepiece on the wall.

“Oh, crap!” she yelled, jumping up and grabbing for his arm, which he kept out of reach. She tried again, then realized what she was doing and snatched her hand back.

“Come on! We’re late!”

After yesterday, Tenthé didn’t see any real need to rush, and that was what he did. As he trailed, he observed that she really wasn’t taking take the best route, but felt no obligation to let her know. He watched as she pushed through several wards without noticing. After a few times, he was sure he could avoid most of them, and, in time, maybe all. Just another little thing to work on.

When they reached Testing, Elishua rushed in. He followed and nearly walked into her backside. She had halted, staring at something he couldn’t see. Peeking around her, he saw Miss Josepha with her head on the desk, snoring softly.

While Elishua grappled with the anomaly, Tenthé went over and sat where he had yesterday. Elishua started to put her hand on Miss Josepha’s shoulder, then stopped and pulled back, obviously undecided. Magister Lang came in, stepped past her, and paused.

Showing a fine presence of mind, he asked Elishua, “Can I help you?”

Her gaze drifted from Miss Josepha to him, then she shook herself.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, sir! I brought Tenthé here. In for his evaluation.”

“Who?”

Apparently, he had forgotten again, even in the short time since the meeting this morning.

She pointed to Tenthé. “Him. He’s a student sponsored by Headmaster Tomas. On a scholarship.”

This appeared to pique Magister Lang’s interest.

“A scholarship, you say? Those are damned rare. Must be something special.”

“You have no idea,” Elishua muttered.

“Did he fill out the forms?”

“Uh…” She glanced at Tenthé, who nodded.

“Yes, he did. Probably yesterday… somehow.”

The Magister nodded once more. “Then they’re here somewhere. Miss Josepha may be… uh, looking after them.”

Magister Lang reached out and moved Miss Josepha’s head a bit.

“Ah, here they are,” he said as he pulled some sheets of parchment from under Miss Josepha and looked them over.

“Uh-huh. These seem fairly complete. Along with a little drool. Huh. A total charity case. How interesting. Well, come with me boy, and we will see what you can do.”

Tenthé was forming a good impression of Magister Lang. He dealt with Miss Josepha a lot better than Elishua had. Although, this might not be the first time he’d seen her like this.

He followed the Magister into the back office, where they sat on their respective sides of the desk. Magister Lang read over the documents carefully.

“Well, this is interesting. The information is sparse, but reasonably complete. Did you have help filling them out?”

He peered up at Tenthé, who nodded. As Magister Lang returned to the forms, Tenthé looked around the room, noting that there seemed to be a lot of Guardians present. Many of them were silently laughing at something, but Tenthé wasn’t sure at what. Although he could usually see magical creatures, only sometimes could he hear them. He turned back to the Magister, who was just finishing going over everything for a second time, muttering and frowning a bit as the desk rocked.

The Magister put down the parchment he had been reading and looked at Tenthé.

“Very good. So… before we get started, I have a few questions. It says you studied the Flowing Path. Is that so?”

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“Yes.”

“How odd. I teach at that school and I have no recollection of you. We’ll have to check that out after we are done, if you have no objections?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“All right, then. Let’s go over the information you’ve provided and ensure that it’s all in order. You’re ten, correct?”

“Maybe. Everyone says so.”

“No parents?”

“I suppose. I don’t know.”

“Well. Honest, at least. Schooling?”

“Uh… what kind do you mean?”

“You know, history, politics, math, literature, science, and so on.”

“Don’t think so. Oh yeah, Bear and I were working on reading and writing.”

“Bear? Who’s that? And… reading and writing?”

“Yeah. I can’t really read or write. I can write my name, and we’ve an idea for the rest. Something to do with my magic.”

“Really? Who told you that? This Bear person?”

“Well, lots of people tried to teach me at the Mission, but I can’t do it. But, uh-huh. Bear thinks it’s my magic messing everything up.”

“Have you ever been tested to verify if what your Bear fellow says is true?”

“No. Why would he lie?”

“How should I know? But, we should consult with an expert.”

“Um, Bear told me he’s an expert, even though he’s only a stuffed toy. Really, just a head. And not that stuffed. Here, see!”

He brought out Bear.

Magister Lang stared. He seemed somewhat at a loss for words.

Tenthé felt he should explain.

“Bear’s asleep now, but we worked out that he would read and count for me if we can get him fixed.”

For some reason, the Magister kept staring at Tenthé.

After a short pause, he mumbled, “Uh, yeah… okay. Ahem… yes, well. We’ll table all this for later. Let’s move on to the real matter at hand, and see what magic you do have.”

For this, Tenthé was prepared. Many times in the past he’d been warned to only show what others expected and hide everything he could. Just in case. The problem, here, was that he didn’t exactly know what people at the College knew about him.

Last night, he’d made a mental list of the things they might know. If he stuck to that, most likely he’d be safe enough. Although it was already too much.

On the good side, if the forgetting was working now, then he might be able to hide some of what they’d seen. He mentally kicked himself when he realized he had missed the opportunity to quiz Elishua. Oh well… it was probably safest to stick to his first plan.

He had another worry. What about the Guardians? They were being pretty closed mouth, at least so far. He had no idea what they thought about everything.

Heck, this was complicated!

Magister Lang was still talking.

“We’ll do some basic tests to get started and find what this leads to, then go through the formal process. Any questions?”

Not the best thing to ask a ten-year-old.

“Do you know the Turtle God?”

“What? No. I mean yes, but I don’t attend his temple. Why?”

“Do you trust him, and how come the Guard talks to him?”

“Uh…”

“And why are there so many Guardians here? And I’m sorry about the table, you seem nicer than I thought.”

After a moment to parse the barrage, the Magister responded, “I can’t really answer any of those questions, although why… I mean, let’s get through this, then we’ll discuss those other things. Okay?”

“I guess.”

“Good. First, I’ll conjure fire, then you do what you can.”

As an example, the Magister made a small flame on his index finger. Tenthé immediately ate the magic, and the flame disappeared with a snap.

“Ow!” Magister Lang was shaking his hand violently. “What did you do?”

“I ate the spell. Like you said.”

“You what?”

“You said to do what I can, so I did.”

“I meant for you to make a flame!”

“You didn’t say that.”

Magister Lang calmed himself. “You’re right. I wasn’t specific. Let’s save your… eating ability for later, after we have covered the basics. How good are you at conjuring fire?”

“Well, yeah, okay. I guess. It’s been a while. I don’t use it much.”

“Not to worry, I am not looking for anything in particular. We simply need to see what level you’re at. In case you are some sort of prodigy, it’s not possible for anyone less than a Sage to cause something bad to happen here. Just show me what you can do.”

“Alright, but...”

“Look. Do your best. I know some things are harder than others, but that is why we test you.”

“I suppose.”

Tenthé scrunched up his face and went through a number of contortions, writhing and grunting. It had been so long since he’d made a simple flame, he was finding extremely difficult. Sure balefire, hell-flame, or liquid death would be no problem, but any of those would melt the College to its foundations, in spite of what the Magister had said.

Finally, a small blue flame popped into existence on his palm, wavered for a very short time, then disappeared with a high-pitched whistle and a pop.

Tenthé slumped back, sweating buckets. It had been all he could do to make sure a conflagration hadn’t filled the room.

“How was that?” he asked, panting.

“Um, okay, I suppose,” the Magister answered, hunched over as he wrote on a parchment.

“Oh, wait! I remember now! I know how…”

“No, no, that’s fine. We’ve got a lot to go through.”

“All right, but…”

“It’s not like you’re going to need it for light anytime soon.”

“Hey, I can do a light! I’m good at that.”

Tenthé took out a stone and conjured a simple Mage light. He made it dim, then too bright to look at, small and huge, then had it float around the room.

Magister Lang watched as he went through his demonstration. When Tenthé finished, he wrote on the parchment for a while. When he was done, he looked up.

“That is very good control.”

“Thanks.”

“All right, then… what else should we do? How about this stylo? Can you move it?”

Tenthé reached over and pushed it with his finger. Magister Lang grunted.

“No. Not like that. With magic. Do something with magic.”

Tenthé decided to keep it simple. First, the stylo started spinning slowly, then it morphed into a frog, then a bunch of frogs, then a frog and a fairy, then two fairies that flew over to Magister Lang. They whispered in his ear, causing him to flush red. The fairies tittered, then flittered up high before turning into ash, which fell on the desk, and kept falling until it was piled to overflowing. Then everything disappeared silently, leaving the stylo sitting by itself.

Magister Lang sat in his chair, looking at Tenthé. Eventually, he started mumbling, “Animate, inanimate, multiple objects, magic creatures with some self-determinism, and quantity… Hmph, very good. Anything else to show me? Can you do a shield?”

“What sort of shield?”

“Any kind. Just a simple shield. Say I shoot an arrow at you. Do something to block it. Something like to this,” he said while manifesting a glowing blue disk that he held in front of him on one arm.

“I don’t like those, you’ll get shot in the legs, and what kind of arrow?”

“It doesn’t matter! Just an arrow!”

“Well, I’d catch it.”

“Make a shield!” the Magister roared.

Tenthé was replaced by a blob of weird distortion. Magister Lang stared. After a moment, he picked up his stylo and poked at it. As he pushed, the stylo stretched into a black rope that circled around where Tenthé had been sitting and came back toward his hand, where it jammed into his thumb, leaving a mark. As he pulled the stylo away, it returned to its original form.

Suddenly, the shimmer disappeared without a sound, revealing an empty chair.

“So, was that okay?”

Magister Lang jumped as Tenthé’s voice sounded from very close. He spun around to find the boy standing right behind him.

“What… How?” Magister Lang sputtered.

“I don’t like to be where everyone thinks I should be.”

Magister Lang sat staring as Tenthé returned to his chair. After a moment, he spoke. “I don’t know what to make of you, boy. You’re not normal. I haven’t seen… well, let’s say I’d judge that you’re behind on some things, but a lot of what you do is just… strange. I can’t tell if what you’re doing is powerful, or a bunch of tricks.”

Magister Lang shook himself and looked around as if he needed to find an anchor for his thoughts. Tenthé was familiar with that look, usually in opponents just before they lost. Possibly he’d gone too far, although he had kept to the simple stuff.

Eventually, Magister Lang squeezed out, “Well… um, is there anything else you want to show me?”

Finally! Something he was ready for. Tenthé looked around at the caches he had found last night and pointed at the one with the most items in it.

“I’m good at finding things, mostly pennies. Like in that box, there.”

“What do you mean? What box?”

“The walls and floors here are made from blocks from some of the old temples. Some are hollow and that one over there has a penny in it. And some other stuff.”

“Are you sure? This room’s been around for quite a while and every kind of magic has been used in here. Someone would have found it by now.”

“Well, I don’t think so. It’s right there.”

Tenthé walked over to the stone block. It was part of the floor and about as long as he was tall, half as wide, and covered in layers of spells. Tenthé started moving his finger around, slowly unraveling and eating the magic. It took a while. For some reason, Magister Lang felt he had to shout at a few of the bright flashes and loud bangs. Eventually, it was unspelled.

He looked up at the Magister, who was staring at him with his mouth open.

Getting back to it, Tenthé pushed and heaved at the cover. Although he could have moved it by himself, Tenthé didn’t want to show off. Magister Lang lost his paralysis and came over to help.

The two of them managed to lift a corner and slide the cover out of the way. Tenthé pounced, “See! A penny.” He held it up triumphantly.

Magister Lang wasn’t paying attention. He was looking in the hollow.

“No! It can’t be,” he whispered.

Reaching down, he lifted up a sword, stared at it for a while, then pulled it partway out of its dark scabbard. A bright silver glowing blade with black etching was revealed.

“It is! It is!” the Magister yelled and spun in place. “The eighth sword of the Drachnaa circle! It’s been lost for… I don’t know, forever!”

After a little more dancing, he rushed out, carrying the sword. For a large man, he moved fast. Tenthé was left standing with the penny in his hand. After a while, no-one came back, so he took the penny, stole the stylo from the desk, and walked out. Elishua was heading toward him when he emerged into the waiting room.

She loomed. “So, you’re alive. How did it go?”

“I don’t know. Okay, I guess.”