Without warning a swift rush of resentment stung her, so sharp she had to reach out a hand to the yellow wall beside her. The injustice of her plight closed her throat and blurred her vision. Killed the memory of that cherry pie and the lingering pleasure of the fabulous nursery clock she’d made. What she could learn here, at the College of Mages. Given the chance, what could she become?

But I’ll never know, will I? I won’t be given that chance.

She could hear Remmie’s voice scolding her.

Count your blessings, Barl. You have Ancilla Grie and her patronage, which is more than most unranked mages can even dream of.

And though that was true, it wasn’t enough. Besides, what was true today might not be true tomorrow. Who knew how long Lady Grie’s approval would last? A week ago it had been Tympanne Ranett perched on her ladyship’s silken shoulder… and now the celebrated Master Artisan was spurned.

Only a fool trusts in the whims of a spoiled First Family mage. The only mage I can rely upon is myself.

She straightened and took a proper look around. She’d walked a goodly distance from Elvado’s central plaza. Here was a hushed residential district, gaily painted houses pressed shoulder to shoulder along a much narrower flagstoned side street, with window boxes and polished brass door-knockers and curtains drawn to keep the world at a polite distance. Some wardings here and there, too, put in place by mages not inclined to trust human nature.

How very wise of them.

She’d wanted to find the College of Mages, to stand before its open gates and dream, but if she didn’t start back to the plaza now she’d be tardy. And that would leave Remmie in a stew of worry and he’d likely scold her in front of Barton Haye.

So she retraced her steps, pushing her way through and around the throng of mages heading for the plaza. Reaching it, she sighed. An hour ago it had been merely dotted with people. Now the plaza was crowded, all but the spouting tip of its fountain hidden by town dwellers and visitors eager to witness the day’s so-called historic events.

“There you are!” Remmie said, pleased, as she elbowed the last few gawkers aside to join him in the Hall of Knowledge’s beautifully tiled forecourt. “They haven’t started yet.”

“So I see,” she replied, looking at the imposing dais that had been set up directly before them. “It seems I rushed back for nothing.”

Remmie rolled his eyes. “Did you have a good wander?”

“I wasn’t bored,” she said, shrugging. More than that she’d no intention of sharing, not with Barton Haye’s sticking-out ears so close by and flapping.

“Well, we had a delightful adventure,” said Remmie, not in the least fooled by her show of indifference. “Over there, not too far away—” He pointed eastward across the crowded plaza. “—there’s a maze, where you must decipher a slew of clues to discover the incants that will let you find your way out again. Without the right incant in the right place you can’t escape. Very clever, it was.”