Boom, boom, boom.

Despite Elishua’s pounding, Tenthé’s door persisted in remaining closed. Eventually, she admitted defeat and called for the wards to open it. That took another fifteen minutes since Tenthé had done something to even screw that up. And, once the room was opened, he wasn’t there. She still had no idea how he managed to avoid her, but he had some way. It annoyed her no end that her mentor, Magister Graf, had directed the Guardians to watch, rather than interfere, so they could get a better idea about what Tenthé could do. It made her job so much harder.

She stomped through the common area. The Envoy latched on as she passed.

“Not there?” she asked.

“Nope. Probably snuck past us, somehow. Again.”

As the two of them approached the next most likely spot, the small dining room, the clamor grew. In a few days, the administration would open the big dining room for meals, but experience showed that things would become quite busy here before that happened. There were multiple theories as to why the College did that. The favorite was that they wanted the students to mix and get to know each other. The actual result was that fights broke out because of the long waits. So, in a way, the goal was achieved.

When Elishua and the Envoy spotted Tenthé seated with his dorm-mates, they grabbed some food, kicked some kids off a table, and sat. A roar of laughter sounded from across the room. Bear was going around, pretending to crap in the gruel, which, to be fair, did resemble a product of digestive upset. Although, in spite of how it looked, it really was quite tasty.

The girls had noted in their reports that even though the boys in Tenthé’s dorm came from widely varying backgrounds, they seemed to have meshed well.

As the time for class approached, the room emptied. When Tenthé got up to leave, Elishua and the Envoy followed, noting he was flanked by a couple of boys from his dorm. When their small parade reached a classroom, the three boys performed an overly complex handshake, then Tenthé split off to enter. The girls exchanged glances, somewhat surprised that Tenthé’s dorm-mates had actually done what they’d said they would.

The two slipped into the back of the classroom and watched as Tenthé made his way over to a girl. They strained to hear what was being said.

Tenthé opened with, “Hey, hi. Remember me?”

“Yeah. Oh, hey. Didn’t we meet, uh… somewhere? Sorry, I can’t recall your name. I should, I’m usually pretty good with names.”

“No problem, that happens a lot. Tenthé. That’s me. You’re Isabell, right?

“Uh-huh. So, what’re you doing here? This is an advanced class.”

“I know, but it’s on my list. Guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“Well, it’ll be rough. This is for students with a lot of experience. My family has a long history, and my dad made us train every day. What about you?”

By now, Tenthé had settled into the seat next to the girl.

“Oh, I know a bit. They said I should give it a try.”

He looked around. The room had tiers of desks facing a large semi-circular open area with a sand floor and walls built from heavy stone blocks. Off to the side, a solitary desk and chair sat on a small paved section. Protective wards separated the front from the rest of the class.

The trickle of students entering petered out, leaving half the seats unoccupied. Tenthé noted that the others tended toward being huge, with him being the smallest, by far. This was disappointing. It pointed to an unimaginative style.

At that moment, a door opened in the stone wall and a Magister entered. Isabell whispered, “Oh! That’s Magister Maguinis. He’s pretty old school.”

Tenthé didn’t understand what that meant, but also didn’t want to ask and look stupid.

The Magister dropped some stuff on the desk and turned to the students. He was older, a little scruffy, but obviously well-muscled under his robe. Tenthé could see that Magister Maguinis was highly accessorized with quite a number of amulets, charms, and wards about his person and embedded in his skin. He perked up. This might be interesting.

“He looks tough,” Bear’s voice sounded in his head.

“Yep,” Tenthé answered with a small smile.

“Play nice.”

The Magister was staring at Tenthé. “Young man. This is advanced Combat! Are you sure you should be here?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Um, I dunno. Sir?”

“Finally. Something correct. In this class, you will always call me sir! And outside this class, you will also call me sir! Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

This was far from the first time one of his teachers had demanded proper respect. Tenthé’d know shortly how proper, proper was.

Magister Maguinis grumbled to himself, but it seemed that Tenthé had done something right, or at least, not wrong.

The Magister approached the back of the open area and placed a red orb on a small stand protruding from the wall. He then turned.

“As you ought to expect, I will use this first class to run everyone through a bit of an exercise to ensure you have kept up over the break, and to evaluate our new members. Just to make it fun, I’ve added a little something. If you manage to get past me, then you can claim this orb for yourself. Remember your training!” He yelled the last sentence.

Isabell touched a glyph on the bench in front of her. Her desk started to glow, and a soft bong sounded.

“Yes, Miss… Gledhill, I assume. I know your dad and uncle.”

“Yes, sir. May I ask, are you going to outline what this class is going to cover? The syllabus is rather sparse.”

“You are correct. It’s that way on purpose. At this level, I’ll tailor my lessons to match what you’re capable of. Don’t worry, you will find it to be illuminating.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Magister Maguinis turned to a student seated up a few rows. “Mathers! You first. I assume you’ve kept in practice?”

“Yes, sir!”

A very large young man came down to face the Magister. Magic flashed, and he was suddenly clad in heavy armor, with a long sword in each gloved hand.

“Ah! I see you’ve opted to drop the shield.”

“Yes, sir! I find the two swords to be more appropriate.”

Tenthé could see that Mather’s armor and blades were densely etched with wards for durability, resilience, shielding, and so on. Very expensive. After evaluating everything, he decided Mathers’ strongest power was strength. He snickered.

On the other hand, the Magister was only wearing a robe. It was reasonable to assume that he would use his powers as needed.

“At your convenience, Master Mathers.”

With that, Mathers swept in, both swords flashing.

Magister Maguinis moved, avoiding slashes and jabs, seemingly without hurry, only manifesting shields and a short sword as necessary. The Magister was reasonably capable and, as he watched, Tenthé had problems deciding what was his own magic and what came from his amulets and such.

Quickly, it became evident that although Mathers was reasonably competent, he was outclassed. Only once did the Magister have to generate a more substantial shield to deflect a thrust that came close to his face.

Then, with a few quick moves, the Magister sent Mather’s swords off to crash into the walls. Instead of attacking some other way, Mathers halted and bowed, scrambled to retrieve his weapons and return to his seat. Tenthé was surprised at the lack of screaming and beatings that Mather’s performance would have garnered from most of his old teachers. In real life, losing had serious consequences.

The Magister worked his way through the rest of the class, apparently saving the newest for last. Most of the students used armor generated by an amulet, or something similar, then fought using their powers. Some had brought physical shields and swords with them, which had some advantages. If their magic failed, then, at least, they’d still have something to fight with.

All in all, though, the display of abilities was uninspired. Some students were fast, some were strong, one threw fireballs which fizzled against the Magister’s shield. Another had some version of telekinesis, but it took her too long to focus.

Tenthé yawned. It appeared the College taught a very classic form of combat. Pretty much what he had expected, but he had hoped for something better.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

No-one came even close to defeating the Magister. It was obvious the students had been trained in styles the Magister knew well, and hadn’t been encouraged to learn anything outside of a fairly narrow scope.

After the latest student had recovered from his drubbing, Magister Maguinis announced, “All right, Miss Gledhill! Time to show us what you can do.”

Isabell descended to the front and manifested a steely blue armor, including a forearm shield, along with an utterly black two-handed sword. She stood at alert. The Magister made a come-hither motion.

Instead of swinging, Isabell took a deep breath and started roaring! The wind and noise from her magic battered the Magister, causing him to stumble. While the dust swirled, Isabell closed quickly. Tenthé was excited; maybe his time, they’d have a real duel!

It was obvious that her screaming added enough of an advantage that Magister Maguinis was forced to work to defend himself. He’d covered himself in full armor, along with a sword and shield. Not surprisingly, Isabell was quicker, but the Magister was bigger and stronger, with an uncanny defense.

If the participants had only used mundane abilities, the fight would have been over quickly; one or the other would have scored a debilitating blow. But, with magic, fights like this mandated that the opponents work to deplete the reserves of their opponent before they would become vulnerable. In this case, the two seemed well matched.

After a while, with both of them suffering from exhaustion, they backed apart and stood panting.

Tenthé had noticed something. Isabell’s screams were less focused than they ought to be. Upon examination of her magic, he found a fairly simple explanation. Although each person’s powers were often quite difficult to see in great detail, occasionally he could pick out a few things. In her case, she used channels, and they were rougher than they had to be. It would be such a small thing to smooth them, a little.

“Don’t do it,” Bear’s voice echoed in his head. “It never works out. Every time we get buried in idiots and wannabe’s, not to mention their families.”

“Yeah, but I…”

“You never listen, but don’t cry to me when they are pestering the crap out of you.”

“She’s different. It’s just something simple and it’ll work out this time.

“No, it won’t.”

Tenthé got up and stepped down to the front, pushed through the wards, approached Isabell, and handed her a flask of water. She looked surprised but took it. Tenthé stood so that his body blocked her from easy view by the class and the Magister. He winked and patted her armored shoulder. She jerked as he cast a spell.

Before she could say anything, he was already making his way back to his seat. The entire class was watching. Unbeknownst to him, he had done the unthinkable: interfered with one of the Magister’s “lessons”. Tenthé reached his desk and sat.

When the Magister looked at Isabell, she shrugged. After a pause, he spoke, “Okay, girl. Not sure what that was. Are you ready to end this?”

“Yes, sir!”

Both stoically readied themselves, obviously sharing their weariness. Isabell took a breath and screamed.

Except, this time, instead of a roar, what came out was a pure sweet tone! As the air in front of the Magister rippled, he flew backwards into the wall and slid to the floor, unconscious.

A gasp sounded throughout the room. Everyone stared in disbelief.

Isabell froze, unsure what to do next.

The students began yelling at her to get the orb! She paused, then approached it. When she reached out her hand, there was a snap and it was her turn to collapse to the floor. Obviously, some sort of booby-trap.

The Magister was beginning to stir as his various amulets and charms restored his health. After a moment, he stood up, although none too quickly, and scanned the room.

“Hmph… that was unexpected,” he said as he looked at where Isabell lay. “She used good form, making me waste my magic until hitting me with a knockout blow. We all should learn from that.”

Turning to the students, the Magister chastised, “But, look at her now! What do I always say? Remember your training! Always be wary and check for traps!”

With that, he turned his glare to Tenthé, who returned the look with his own emotionless expression.

“Your turn, young sir. We’ll see what you can pull out of your… uh… bag of tricks. Someone, take the girl to her seat. She’ll recover shortly.”

Without comment, Tenthé got up and walked toward the front. He paused and waited as a few students carried Isabell past.

As he stepped on the sand, Magister Maguinis began, “Well, Master…” then Tenthé let off a flash-bang in his face. The Magister’s armor manifested to save his vision while the wards darkened to protect the students.

Tenthé took a few steps to the side and conjured a wind, which blew up a dust cloud, obscuring everything in the combat zone. As expected, the Magister’s visor became transparent as soon as the flash died, and he began, “Ha! If you think…” then he found himself unable to see due to the dust. He stopped, cast a spell to clear a space around himself, then continued lecturing.

“This type of distraction is common on the battlefield. We have time-tested techniques that have been…” he paused, listening.

A low humming could be heard. A blackish dot flew out of the cloud and hit his armor. Then another and another.

“Well, if that’s all you… AHHH!” he screamed. “BEES!”

The Magister began dancing around, swatting at the dots swarming him. He might be clad in armor, but it was obvious that some of the bees had gotten inside. His spell to dissipate the dust cloud lapsed and the students could only get the occasional glimpse as he capered about, screaming and hitting himself.

“Enough of this!” The Magister finally yelled and a shower of high-power bolts flashed around him, frying bees and piercing everywhere, fortunately dissipating when they intersected the wards. Everyone felt bad for the kid. There was no chance he could avoid being hit, and those bolts would hurt!

But, as the dust cleared, no body appeared. Tenthé wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere. Only the Magister stood at the front, surrounded by piles of dead bees.

“Well, harrumph,” the Magister muttered. He paced back and forth, sweeping the area with his sword, trying to see if Tenthé was hiding, invisible somewhere. Suddenly, his head jerked up.

“No!” he exclaimed.

He hurried over to the red orb, which appeared to be undisturbed. Magister Maguinis went through the motions to dispel the booby-trap and reached for it. A massive lightning bolt shot out, and he collapsed to the floor, once again.

Everyone watched, spellbound, as Tenthé crawled out from under the Magister’s desk. He stood up and walked over to the red orb, which he grabbed and put it in his cloak. He then climbed through the silent students to return to his seat.

“Uh, what now?” a voice asked.

After a brief pause, Elishua got up and descended to the front. “I would suggest the class is over. Someone call a medic. Just in case. Thanks ever so much. Tenthé, please wait behind.”

She went over to Magister Maguinis. He appeared to be breathing normally. A moment later, the medic rushed in and started fussing. Deciding things were under control, Elishua made her way up the risers to where Tenthé was sitting beside the Envoy.

“Not too sure how this is going to play out,” Elishua ventured. “Maybe it’s best that we, uh… be elsewhere.”

Shortly after they’d exited, bellowing echoed down the hallway from the classroom. Something like: scream, roar, scream, then a barely coherent yell along the lines of, “How DARE he booby-trap my booby-trap!” along with more shrieks.

Uncharacteristically, Tenthé grabbed the hands of Elishua and the Envoy, pulling them into one of those corridors only he seemed to be able to find. Eventually, the noise behind them faded, and they continued in silence. After a surprisingly short time, the trio reached the corridor outside Tomas’ rooms.

“I thought you might want to be here,” Tenthé stated.

The Envoy rang the glyph and Tomas answered immediately. After a quick look at their faces, he ushered everyone into his office.

“From your presence, I take it that everything didn’t go as planned?” he said dryly.

It took a while to summarize what had transpired.

Elishua concluded by saying, “It’s apparent that Tenthé is not a proper fit for that class. The first thing I noticed is that he is so small. For any one-on-one, he has to use non-traditional tactics. I admit that would probably be a good lesson for the rest of the students, but Magister Maguinis is not the most flexible, and, with Tenthé’s size, it would be difficult to integrate him into the formations they will be learning. I don’t know if he’d make a decent combat mage, but it doesn’t matter since that’s a different class, and isn’t offered this session. We’ll have to discuss it.

“And, we might want to think about his effect on morale. He used a number of simple tricks to defeat the Magister, who was… mmm, not terribly pleased, to say the least. At this point, my opinion is that we should revisit our decision to have him in the class.”

Tomas turned to the Envoy.

“Do you have anything to add?” he asked.

She appeared to be having an internal debate. Tomas and Elishua gave her time to work through her issues.

After a while, she ventured, “I… I don’t know if I should say this. It’s something I never expected to see. We, and by that I mean the Trachteur, have stories about individuals who appear at times of change. They aren’t any one thing, but events swirl around them and things happen that are not what anyone expects. I always thought these tales were complete fiction. But… I am starting to wonder.

“I’m not saying Tenthé is one of these… beings, but there’s definitely an argument in favor of it. In an amazingly short time, I’ve witnessed his uncanny ability to disrupt order and sow chaos. So far, it’s mostly been small things, but this is only the beginning. I can only imagine what we might expect in the future.”

She halted and after a moment’s thought, Tomas turned to Tenthé.

“Can you clarify a few points for me, young man?” he asked. “That bit with the bees worked quite well, but wasn’t it risky to assume they could get through to the Magister?”

Tenthé answered, “No. I watched him in the earlier fights and it was obvious what spell he was using. His armor is good for most offensive spells: knives, and swords, but it has a problem with things like bugs.”

“Are you sure? Even if you’re right, I suspect that isn’t common knowledge. I certainly don’t know it. How do you?”

“Ah, pretty sure I learned it when I was with the Assassins.”

The adults looked at each other.

Elishua hazarded, “Assassins? What? Are you one?”

Tenthé laughed. “Ha-ha, no,” he answered. “I did them a few favors and they give me some training. Well, then it all went bad, but I made it out okay.”

“Oh good. That’s just fine then,” Elishua responded, the sarcasm lost on Tenthé.

Tomas changed the subject. “Be truthful, Tenthé. Was there any another way you could have defeated Magister Maguinis?”

“Yeah. But I like a good fight.”

“Huh. Tell me, do you think he could beat you?”

“Um… nope. Not really. New Gods, or lots of things at the same time are hard, but a soldier like him? I pretty much knew what he’s going to do.”

The Envoy broke in. “Let me get this straight. In your duel, you set off the sparkler to cause a distraction, then the dust cloud as another distraction for the bees that were a third distraction, and while he was dealing with these, you trapped his trap? Then you hid and hoped everything would work out? How did you know he would check the orb?”

“It was a guess. If he’d done something else, then I would have done something else, too.”

“You didn’t research his class beforehand? You came up with this on the fly?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you pick what you did?”

“He’s big, I’m small. It was safer to use tricks and traps. I’m really good at those.”

“Why didn’t you steal his magic? Like you did before?”

“I wanted to give him a chance. Usually I don’t, but the wards showed me the fight was kind of fake. No-one would die.”

“The wards showed you?”

“Yeah.”

After a few moments attempting to digest his answers, Tomas asked, “Tenthé, tell me truly, do you really have no idea where you came from? And, at some point, you need to clarify what happened in these Pools of yours.”

“Um, I don’t know much. All I remember from when I was a kid is running around on the streets of the City. That’s some of why I stay here. It’s what I know.”

Tomas rubbed his head, showing a little emotion, mostly exasperation. He noticed Tenthé hadn’t addressed his second question.

“Okay. Your next class has started. You should try to get to it. Let the Magister for…” he looked at a document in front of him, “uh, Mystic Studies, know I detained you. And please… no incidents.”

After Tenthé left, the discussions went round and round. Other than resolving to investigate everything Tenthé had revealed, the meeting was not overly productive.