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Proctor Basilius stood with his back to the door when Oskar entered the office. Hands folded behind his back, he stared out the window. He was a broad-shouldered man with thick, yellow-white hair that hung to his shoulders. When he finally turned around, he arched an eyebrow at Oskar.
“Why did you not announce yourself?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” How had he already managed to run afoul of the man?
“What, pray tell, was I doing that you thought you should not interrupt?”
“Thinking? I think.” He forced himself to meet the man’s green-eyed stare.
Finally, Basilius’ stony expression cracked and he twitched his cheek in something less than a smirk. “Don’t mind me, boy. It’s my duty as a master to take the measure of our novits. I merely wanted to see how you comported yourself.”
Oskar felt he’d made a poor showing, but merely nodded. He and Basilius took seats in front of a cold fireplace, and Basilius stared at him far too long for comfort. Finally, the proctor broke the silence.
“Tell me how you came to the gates.”
“Aspin brought me.” This was one of the many areas in which Aspin had coached him not to reveal too much.
“I understand he sees great promise in you.” Another twitch of the mouth. “Where did the two of you meet?”
“In Lothan.” Wait! Was that the story he was supposed to tell, or should he have said they’d met in Galsbur? He’d been forced to learn so much in such a short time, that he couldn’t possibly remember it all.
“A dangerous place. What is a young Galdoran doing down there?” Basilius kept his tone conversational, but his gaze hardened.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I left home seeking adventure.” He hung his head, hoping the prelate wouldn’t see the lie in his eyes. “I didn’t know where I was going and, next thing I knew, I was in Lothan.”
“I understand that the clans have united.” Basilius stood, moved to a corner cabinet, and withdrew a bottle of wine and two glasses. “What is your assessment of the situation?”
“I don’t know. Aspin found me and I traveled with him.” He accepted a glass of red wine, but did not drink. As he gazed down into the depths, the deep crimson put him in mind of blood. “We saw lots of clans traveling, but that’s all I know.”
Basilius took a long drink, letting the silence hang in the air. Finally, he set his glass down. “Where were they traveling?”
“I’m not sure. Aspin talked with them. I tended the fire, practiced...” He realized he was providing more information than the prelate had requested, and fell silent.
“It’s not unusual for a saikur to begin a novit’s education before he is officially enrolled at the gates. What did you practice?”
This was not consistent with what Aspin had told him, but the proctor didn’t seem bothered. “Some weapons training, quarterstaff mostly.”
“Sorcery as well?” Basilius’ smile calmed the wave of anxiety that rolled over Oskar. “I can sense it in you.” He sat up straighter and smoothed his robes. “One of my areas of responsibility is to oversee Master Ashur, who teaches sorcery. I take an interest in novits who show a pronounced ability. I’d like to assess you.”
Oskar’s heart raced and his throat was tight, but he choked out a reply. “I haven’t learned much.”
“Relax. I am not testing you. I only want to measure your capacity for channeling power. All right?”
Oskar felt anything but all right, but he nodded and straightened in his seat.
“Look directly into my eyes.” Basilius’ voice was velvet. “Allow your focus to narrow until all you see are my pupils. Black circles in a haze of gray.”
It was an odd feeling, looking into the man’s eyes like this. Aspin had never used this technique with him. As the proctor guided him, he relaxed and opened himself to the energy all around him.
It started as a trickle, and then a flood. Power rolled through him, sharpening his awareness, intensifying his senses. As he gazed into Basilius’ eyes, his pupils seemed to grow, until, suddenly, Oskar was engulfed in blackness. He tried to look away, or even close his eyes, but he was entranced.
And then the first memory came.
Drifting up like bubbles from the bottom of a pond, came a series of disjointed images: riding through the forest with Aspin, his first sorcery lesson, practicing the quarterstaff with Allyn. He tried to control his thoughts, but something seemed to reach inside his mind and draw them forth: Shanis holding the Silver Serpent aloft, Khalyndryn’s lifeless eyes.
With a cry of pain, he broke free of whatever power gripped him. Basilius jerked back as if he’d been struck a sharp blow. They stared at one another, Oskar panting from the effort, the proctor looking bemused.
“Sorry,” Oskar finally said. “I don’t know what happened.”
“It is all right. You are a novit after all. I shouldn’t keep you any longer.” Basilius rose, strode to the door, and opened it for Oskar. “Sleep well. You’ll want to be ready for your first day of training.”
Oskar mumbled a hasty word of thanks and bowed his way out of the office. He’d paid little attention on the way here, and had to ask directions twice before finding his way to his room. When he arrived, he found his roommates all still awake.
“What did Basilius want?” Naseeb asked.
“I’m not exactly sure.” He gave a brief accounting of his meeting with the prelate. When he came to the assessment of his strength, he paused. “This is going to sound strange, but at the end, it felt like he was trying to draw memories out of me.” He let the words hang there, waiting for them to laugh.
But only silence greeted his words. Naseeb and Whitt exchanged a hasty glance while Dacio coughed and looked away.
“What?”
They all held their silence for a few moments, and then Naseeb sighed. “There are rumors about Basilius. It’s said he can read minds.”
Oskar considered this. It had felt like an outside force was thumbing through his memories like the pages of a book. If that was the case, then Basilius had known Oskar was hiding information about his time in Lothan. He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush.
“You said rumors. What else do they say about him?”
Naseeb shook his head. “Not tonight. It’s late and I don’t like talking about him.” His face brightened. “A page brought your things. I guess Darhon didn’t find anything that concerned him.” He tossed Oskar a brass key and indicated a wooden trunk in the corner. “That’s yours. If you lose the key, you’ll have to ask Darhon for a new one, and he’ll make you regret it.”
Oskar winced at the thought.
“Oh, and a saikur brought you this.” Naseeb handed him a canvas bag. Oskar opened it and smiled. It was his cloak the Thandrylls had given him. Aspin must have brought it to him. He felt a pang of disappointment that he’d missed him. He would have loved to tell Aspin about his meeting with Basilius.
Leaving the cloak in the bag, he went to his trunk and unlocked it. There were his belongings, such as they were. His clothing had been laundered and mended. A lump formed in his throat as he looked at the reminders of the time he’d spent traveling with his friends. He wondered how Shanis was managing in her new role as leader of the Lothans. Was Hierm a father yet? Had Allyn recovered from his ordeal battling with the spirit that sought to possess him? And how was Larris faring back in the palace at Archstone? Then he thought of Khalyndryn, and tears welled in his eyes.
“Are you all right?” Whitt half-rose from the edge of his bed.
“Yes, I just...” The words froze on his tongue. He’d just realized something was missing.
His book.