The next day, the entire fifth year assembled again in the Grand Assembly Hall, from which they were directed to study cubicles for their first spellcasting test. There were three hundred of the small study cubicles, each one ten feet square, with plain stone walls, one table and one chair. They were designed to be places where an apprentice could go to be alone and study without fear of being interrupted. Now, however, over the course of the day, every fifth year student would be sharing one with a high level teaching wizard, so that he could demonstrate the casting of a spell without any distractions or outside influences interfering with it.

     Thomas was in cubicle 116 with Master Elmias Pastin, the head of extra-planar studies and one of the most powerful wizards in the valley. He wasn't merely a teacher, although he took classes as often as he could. He was a research wizard who spent most of his time in other dimensions, other planes of existence, exploring and studying what he found there. The last time Thomas had seen him had been five months before, when he'd taken his class on a school outing to a plane of elemental air, a place so fascinating that he was determined to go back there one day, under his own power. University gossip had it that Elmias spent nearly half his life travelling in other planes, and that his rooms were full of souvenirs brought back from dozens of other universes.

     He spent a few moments glancing up and down some notes, and then said "I believe you're going to cast a Reveal spell for me. Is that right?"

     "Y-yes sir," said Thomas. Elmias glanced up sternly at his stammer, and Thomas felt a cold hand grab his insides and twist them. He tried to calm down, but the butterflies in his stomach paid him no attention, and carried on trying to escape. This is ridiculous, he told himself. I've cast this spell dozens of times, perfectly each time! There's absolutely no reason why I shouldn't be able to do it now. Nevertheless, he knew that it was different now, for the simple reason that he was being tested.

     Elmias reached a hand into a pocket of his robes and brought out seven gold rings, each with a different gemstone. A diamond, a ruby, an emerald, a sapphire, an opal, a jet and a polished bead of ivory. He said "None of these rings is magical. However, one of them has been given a magical charge that will make it react to your spell as though it were magical. I want you to tell me which one it is." He placed them on the table. "In your own good time."

     Thomas looked at the rings. The words of the spell came easily to his mind. He had carefully memorised them that morning. As always, the words had changed since the last time he'd cast it. The very ink on the pages of his spellbook had moved, rearranging itself into new words and phrases. No-one knew how, or why, it did this, but it meant that the spell had to be memorized all over again every time he wanted to cast it. Speaking the words as they'd been the day before would, at best, have no effect, and at worst they would cause the spell to misfire in a dangerous and unpredictable way.

     Thomas had gone over the new words again just before Elmias’s arrival, to make sure they were correct, but he was terrified that he would stammer again as he said them, spoiling the spell and failing the test. Elmias looked at him impatiently. Thomas swallowed, rubbed his hands, and decided to go for it. After all, he told himself, even if I do fail, I've already accomplished much more than I thought possible when I first came. I've read my way virtually all through the library, or at least those parts we're allowed into, and I never really thought I could actually become a wizard.

     Having resigned himself to failure, he felt much better. He was cool, calm and collected. He reached a hand out over the rings, spread his fingers, said the magic words and one of the rings, the sapphire one, began to glow with a soft blue light as the aura placed on it was made visible. He looked up, and saw Elmias smiling at him. "Well done," he said. "I'll see you again tomorrow."

     He gathered up the rings, got up and left, heading for the next cubicle where there was another apprentice nervously waiting for him, leaving Thomas feeling stunned at how quickly he'd come out the other side. From hours of anxiety, creeping with glacial slowness so that it seemed as though years were passing in the outside world, to the relief of a successful pass. How was it possible to go from one to the other so quickly? But even as these thoughts were passing through his head he remembered that he'd have to go through the whole thing again the next day, and all of a sudden the anxiety was back, twisting his guts and making him shake as if in a fever. Will it ever be over? he wondered in near despair.

     As always after having cast a spell, he was left with a strange empty feeling deep inside him where the magic had been. Being so young, he could currently only store enough magic inside himself to cast one low level spell a day. While that magic was within him he barely noticed it, but now that it was gone… He was acutely aware that he was only human now. Until his body absorbed more of the magic force from the air around him and the food he ate, he was as mundane and helpless as any peasant planting turnips in a field. He smiled at the thought. A nervous, slightly scared smile. Then he left the cubicle to return to the common room, hoping to find Lirenna there.

     Lirenna and Jerry were in other cubicles, though, also demonstrating spells. A few doors further down the corridor, Jerry was holding a bit of fleece in his hand and concentrating intently on a spot on the wall where a swirling cloud of colours gradually condensed into the image of a door, identical to the real door next to it. The bit of fleece withered and evaporated, and the two high level wizards also in the room went over to examine the illusion.

     "It's a bit fuzzy ‘round the edges," said the first.

     "What do you mean, a bit fuzzy?" the other retorted in surprise. "Most apprentices never get past being able to create simple shapes and colours. That's astonishing for someone at his stage of development. He's well earned his pass."

     "Let's wait a bit, see how long he can maintain it," said the first. They waited for a few minutes, therefore, during which Jerry stared unblinkingly at the illusion, his eyes watering and tears running down his cheeks. The 'door' wavered a couple of times, like a reflection on water across which ripples are passing, but soon stabilised as Jerry clenched his fists and stared harder. He began to get a headache.

     "Come on, Nesbin, that'll do. How long could you maintain it?"

     "I'm not the one being tested here. His concentration's wavering."

     "Of course it is! You know how many years it takes to gain a proper mastery of this game. Besides, It only needs one of us to pass it, and I already have. You know what that kind of intensive concentration costs you." He turned to the nome. "You can stop now. You've passed."

     Jerry's pride had been pricked, though. He wanted to impress both of them. "I can hold it a bit longer," he told them, and his tiny hands clenched into fists as he fought to overcome the waves of dizziness that swept over him. The younger of his two judges turned to the other, now becoming visibly angry. "Nesbin! In the name of the Magister!"

     "All right," his companion reluctantly agreed, and he touched the illusion, making it vanish with a faint popping sound. Jerry staggered and nearly fell, but was caught by the second wizard. "Sorry about that," he said, "but Nesbin here’s a bit of a hardcase." He shot his companion an angry glance. "You did very well."

     "I did, didn't I?" said Jerry, giving Nesbin a hard stare. The older wizard was unimpressed, though, and returned an impassive look of icy aloofness. "You nearly lost your concentration at one point," he said, "but I'm going to be lenient and pass you. You need a lot more practice, though. See that you get it." He left the room, with the second wizard following him, his angry words floating back to the exhausted nome. "Look, I know you were turned down as Brok's assistant, but that's no reason to take it out on the students." Whatever Nesbin replied was lost to Jerry, however, as they turned a bend in the corridor, and the tiny nome sat down in the chair to recover from the exertion of the spell.

     Lirenna, in contrast, was having a much easier time. The wizard testing her, an elderly grey haired woman in the golden robes of the school of enchantment, had dragged in another apprentice who had just successfully passed his day's testing and was now sitting nervously in the chair. "Is it going to hurt?" he asked, looking fearfully up at the demi shae, who smiled reassuringly at him.

     "Not at all," replied the woman, whose name was Tarantha. "The spell is completely harmless." She turned to Lirenna and said "It is possible that he will successfully resist your enchantment, especially as he is so afraid. Don't worry about that, however, as I will be able to tell if it was cast correctly, and that is what you will be judged on."

     "Enchantment?" said the young man, whose name was George. "You're going to spell bind me?" He stared at Tarantha, a look of near panic in his eyes. "It'll wear off, won't it?"

     "It won't have a chance to," the wizardess reassured him. "I'll dispel it the moment I'm satisfied it's been cast correctly."

     "And what if it isn't cast correctly? What if it does something to me, something permanent?"

     Tarantha smiled at him. "Don't you have faith in your class mate?" she asked. "You've been working with her for three years now. You know how promising we consider her to be."

     The young man nodded, but the fear remained. He was remembering the times, over the past few months, when he'd tried to date her, and how flatly he'd failed each time. When his friends had asked him how he was doing with her, though, he'd lied to them, made up a story of a steamy evening in his room, and when Lirenna had found out she'd been furious. She hadn't been able to take the revenge she'd wanted without damaging her record, but what if she'd been merely biding her time? What if the spell she was going to cast on him now 'went wrong' in a way that had some horrible effect on him? Lirenna would simply claim that the spell had escaped her control and no-one would ever be able to prove otherwise. Her revenge would be complete. Lirenna smiled at him, guessing his thoughts, and reflected that the anxiety he was suffering now was all the revenge she needed. Well, almost. The price of her sullied reputation was high, after all.

     She turned to face the young man, looking him right in the eye. She winked at him, and his heart missed a beat as his fear reached new heights. The demi shae felt a moment of satisfaction, but regretted it almost immediately. The more scared he was, the less likely the spell was to succeed, and she wanted to pass this test. She wasn't going to be held back for a year because of an odious little scum like him! She smiled reassuringly, therefore. "Don't worry," she told him. "Whatever differences we've had, they're all behind us now. Let's just get through the tests and go our separate ways."

     George nodded in relief, but remembered that she had shae blood. All the shae folk were notoriously unpredictable, as unpredictable as they were beautiful. She might be telling the truth and still change her mind at the last moment. He could refuse to take part, he remembered. He could walk out of here and make her find someone else to cast her spell on, but it was too late. The demi shae was already beginning to speak.

      Lirenna said the magic words in a lilting seductive voice, looking him right in the eyes, forcing him to maintain eye contact with her while she reached out to gently stroke his arm, her slender hand slipping under the sleeve of his robes to caress the skin. Her touch was like an electric tingle, and the look she was giving him was the one he'd always dreamed of, the one he'd always hoped for in the darkest hours of the night. Now that he was finally getting it, though, it only made him even more scared.

     The art of enchantment required the subject (victim) to be raised to a state of sexual arousal, and he found himself responding despite his every effort to resist. Once he was under, she'd be able to do whatever she wanted to him. Anything at all! Suddenly, though, she fell silent, her casting concluded, and her hand withdrew to sit in her lap with its mate. George examined the state of his mind, searching for any kind of change that had come over him. He found nothing. The spell had failed! Fallen flat, and without any unpleasant side effects! He laughed inwardly, while striving to keep any sign of his delight out of his face. Teach the shae bitch to turn him down! Think they're so much better than us...

     He looked at Lirenna and was struck yet again by just how beautiful she was. All the shae folk were beautiful, of course, the men as well as the women, but suddenly she was the most staggeringly beautiful woman he had ever seen, more beautiful even than a pureblooded shae. Her skin seemed to glow from inside, and her robes were such a brilliant white that they made his own robes seem dirty and grey in comparison. It must be the relief that the ordeal was over, he thought. It was a pity that her spell, whatever it had been, had failed and he felt sorry for her, but... No, it wasn't sorrow or sympathy he felt for her, it was something much deeper. Something much stronger. He would do anything for her, he realised. He would do whatever she asked of him, just so long as she'd let him be near her. He loved her!

     "Have you got your spellbook with you?" she asked, with a voice like pure mountain water sparkling as it flowed down its rocky bed.

     "Y-yes, I've got it right here," he said, pulling it out of his pocket so quickly that he tore a couple of stitches in the seam. He held it out to her.

     "Open it at your favourite spell."

     He did so, turning to the fiery grasp spell he'd cast only a few minutes before.

     "Now tear it out."

     The man hesitated, and Tarantha leaned forwards, looking at Lirenna with a frown on her face. The man seemed to be fighting an internal battle with himself, but after a minute or so he took hold of the page in his right hand and began to pull.

     "Stop!" cried Lirenna and Tarantha together. The man let go and jerked his hand back, staring down at the still undamaged spellbook. Tarantha spoke a few words, breaking the spell, and the young man stared at the two women, suddenly bewildered. Then, as he realised what he'd almost done, what she'd almost made him do, his bewilderment turned to anger. "You..."

     "Thank you for your help," said Tarantha firmly. "You may go now." George stared at her, but then nodded and turned for the door. He paused a moment in the doorway to look back at the demi shae, giving her a look of hurt and resentment, but then he left, closing the door behind him a little harder than necessary.

     "That was totally unnecessary, Lirenna."

     "I stopped him in time. I had to make him do something he would never have dreamed of doing normally, to make sure the spell had worked."

     "It was already perfectly obvious that it had worked. You saw how angry you made him. You've been taught the dangers of enchantment, how it always leaves a residue of anger and resentment when it wears off. Now you've seen it for yourself. I hope you've learned something from this."

     "Yes mistress. I'm sorry."

     "Good. You have the makings of a fine enchantress, if you can learn to discipline yourself. Now go and study for tomorrow's test."

     The three of them met each other in the common room, the demi shae once again sitting in Thomas's chair, which, it turned out, was also her chair, the chair she always sat in. Neither of them had realised that the other also used it regularly, because they'd never been in the room at the same time before. They were all delighted to learn that the other two had survived the day's testing as well, and celebrated with a round of fruit drinks.

     Afterwards they spent an hour wandering the University grounds, all three of them speaking at fever pitch as if trying to catch up on five years of experiences, five years during which they would surely have been good friends if they'd ever had the chance to meet properly. These are great people! thought Thomas as they sat on a bench in the Lydian garden, one on either side of him. He'd never had friends he felt he could really relax with before, people with whom he could just be himself. All his previous friends had always made him feel a little apprehensive, as if he'd always been afraid they might turn on him at any moment. Laugh at him or something. He'd always felt that they were better friends with each other than they were with him, as if he was on the edge of their group, separated by some intangible divide. With these two, though, this shae girl and the nome, he finally felt that he was one of them, a full member, and without anything being said he somehow knew that it was the same for them as well.