“So as you can see, it would be possible to turn lead into gold, but it would require more than the gold’s resulting worth to make the transformation permanent, thus causing the process to be entirely futile, at least using this method.”

Arista heard Arcadius’s familiar voice booming as they approached the lecture hall.

“There are some, of course, who take advantage of the temporary transformation to dupe the unwary, creating a very realistic fool’s gold that hours later reveals itself to be lead.”

The lecture room was lined with tiers of seats, all filled with identically gowned students. At the podium stood the lore master, a thin elderly man with a blue robe, a white beard, and spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

“The danger here is that once the ruse has been discovered, the victim is often more than mildly unhappy about it.” This comment drew laughter from the students. “Before you put too much thought into the idea of amassing a fortune based on illusionary gold, you should know that it’s been tried. This crime—and it is a crime—usually results in the victim taking out his anger on the perpetrator of the hoax in the form of a rather unceremonious execution. This is why you don’t see your master of lore, dressed in the finest silks from Vandon, traveling about in an eight-horse carriage with an entourage of retainers.”

More laughter.

Arista was unclear whether the lecture was at an end or if Arcadius spotted the party on the rise and cut the class short. In any case, the lore master closed his instruction for the day with reminders about homework and dates of exams. As most of the students filed out, a few gathered around their professor with questions, which he patiently addressed.

“Give me a chance to introduce you,” Arista said as they descended the tiers. “I know Arcadius looks a little … odd, but he’s really very intelligent.”

“And the frog exploded, didn’t it?” the wizard was saying to a young man wearing a sober expression.

“Made quite a mess too, sir,” his companion offered.

“Yes, they usually do,” Arcadius said in a sympathetic tone.

The lad sighed. “I don’t understand. I mixed the nitric acid, sulfuric acid, and the glycerin and fed it to him. He seemed fine. Just as you said in class, the blackmuck frog’s stomach held the mixture, but then when he hopped …” The boy’s shoulders slumped while his friend mimicked an explosion with his hands.

The lore master chuckled. “Next time, dissect the frog first and remove the stomach. There’s a lot less chance of it jumping then. Now run along and clean up the library before Master Falquin gets back.”

The two boys scampered off. Royce closed the door to the lecture hall after them, at which point the princess felt it was safe to remove her cloak.