“Like night and day.” She took a sip of wine. “Arcadius was formal in his lessons. He followed a structured course, using books and lecturing very professorially, like you saw this evening. His style made the lessons seem right and proper, despite the stigma associated with them. Esrahaddon was haphazard, and he seemed to teach whatever came to his mind. Oftentimes he had trouble explaining things. Arcadius is clearly the better teacher, but …” She paused.

“But?” Royce asked.

“Well, don’t tell Arcadius,” she said conspiratorially, “but Esrahaddon seems to be the more skilled and knowledgeable. Arcadius is the expert on the history of magic, but Esrahaddon is the history, if you follow me.”

She took a bite of pie and got a mouthful of onions and burnt crust.

“Having learned from both, doesn’t that make you the third most skilled mage in Avryn?”

Arista smirked bitterly and washed the mouthful down with more wine. While she suspected Royce was correct, she had cast only two spells since leaving their tutelage.

“Arcadius taught me many important lessons. Yet his classes concerned themselves with using knowledge as a means to broaden his students’ understanding of their world. It’s his way of getting us to think in new directions, to perceive what is around us in terms that are more sensible. Of course, this didn’t make his students happy. We all wanted the secrets to power, the tools to reshape the world to our liking. Arcadius doesn’t really give answers, but rather forces his students to ask questions.

“For instance, he once asked us what makes noble blood different from a commoner’s blood. We pricked our fingers and ran tests, and as it turns out, there is no detectable difference. This led to a fight on the commons between a wealthy merchant’s son and the son of a low-ranking baron. Master Arcadius was reprimanded and the merchant’s son was whipped.”

Hadrian finished eating, and Royce was more than halfway through his pie, but he had left his wine untouched after grimacing with the first sip. Arista chanced another bite and caught a mushy carrot, still more onions, and a soggy bit of crust. She swallowed with a sour look.

“Not a fan of meat pie?” Hadrian asked.

She shook her head. “You can have it if you like.” She slid it over.

“So how was studying with Esrahaddon?”