The University of Sacred Arts was in Eovyn, or rather, the city of Eovyn was the University. The only place in the kingdom-- perhaps on the continent-- where the population of mages was equal or more than that of regular people.

You could see why they preferred it to any other city. It was one of the most ancient places in the realm, on the edge of the sprawling, gnarled forest. The streets were narrow, uneven stone, too narrow for horses or carts, though they widened as they spiraled out from the ancient heart of the city. Even the pattern of their spirals and twists seem to mimic the shapes of the curling script their scrolls of history and magic were written in. Students of the Art had been said to find the inspiration of the great masters simply by walking these streets in the shape of those powerful symbols. It was something they could be found trying to do often. Legend told if you could walk those streets and allies in the correct order, so they twisted into symbols of power, starting at the very center of the city and ending back there, then some great secret of the Art would be revealed to you.

You'd think that, by now, they would have run out of streets to try, orders to walk in, and given up on the task that had probably been made up by some old professor years ago to keep his students busy. You'd think by now someone would have proved it impossible-- it wasn't a large city, after all. Surely they had run out of combinations to try?

But no. Several students were at that moment dedicating their entire attention to the task, pacing the narrow streets with all the concentration as if they'd been casting a difficult spell, the hems of their green robes sweeping the uneven stone cobbles.

It was a very impractical fashions the students wore, Tobias thought, watching the darker green embroidery on the swaying hem of the boy he was following twist like a snake around each fold of the thick fabric. But he thought he rather liked it. And it certainly helped differentiate them from everyone else who squeezed through the streets of the city. It had made it very easy to find one he could follow back to the center of the city. He had decided the center was where he would start, now that he had finally made it to the city he had been thinking about for years. Eovyn, the ancient city, the largest artifact left from whatever race had inhabited their land before it was Solangia. 

He was still musing on this ancient race when the boy turned sharply and grabbed his wrist, as though Tobias were a common thief who would run away. 

"You know the legend says you must discover the way yourself for the secret to be revealed to you."

He had to collect his thoughts for moment to understand what the boy was accusing him of. "I am not a student here, I have no interest in your secrets." Then he amended, "Not in the secret you are searching for." He took his hand back and smoothed his tunic. He had purchased new garments for this trip, the moment he arrived and observed the fashions of this strange city, which seemed not to have changed in roughly a hundred years. No need for anyone to become nervous at a glimpse of gold on his collar or the buckle of his belt; he wore the overly-long tunic and wide sash-like belt they favored. He would go unnoticed here, for as long as it was useful, anyway.

"In any case, I don't believe your secret exists. You are chasing a legend, and a legend only. Humans were not fashioned by gods and stars to waste time on endeavors formed by silverdust on wind." The last was a quote from an old literary work; he certainly wasn't expecting this student-mage to understand the reference.

The boy's lips tightened and he drew back his hood. Yes, the students of this city wore hoods, even though summer never really left the surface of its cool grey stones, and the vines that wove themselves through the chinks of the rain-worn buildings provided plenty of soft, leafy shade. "When small tasks teach lessons, they become great, for with small stone are temples built," he quoted back.

From the teachings of Iveocles, Tobias grudgingly acknowledged to himself, a scholar of rather more repute than the anonymous writer of the History. "There is knowledge and there is wit; only one is truly useful," he shot back as soon as he could scramble for a retort, this one also from Iveocles.

Rather than seeming subdued at all by the jab, the boy seemed only scornful that Tobias was really going to continue throwing quotes around. "At the University, we learn not to let sunlight fade our knowledge by keeping it lying about in unsightly places. Pray, don't let yours be bleached anymore; I'm afraid you can't afford to lose much."

A clever play on words, Tobias admitted, again, only to himself. He would have retorted with something along the same vein but the boy had continued walking-- more, he had continued walking as though he expected Tobias to follow, deliberately making room for them to walk side by side. "The point of the tracing," the boy continued, and Tobias assumed the tracing was the task the boy had been concentrating on before, "Is not really to receive magical wisdom from the divine." He let no trace of disgust into his voice, but Tobias knew no real mage used the word magic to refer to their art except when talking about something they did not consider worthy of the title sacred art.

"Then the point is?"

"The point is in the task itself. It is not easy."

Of course it was. If he'd had a map of the city and a dictionary of the symbols, Tobias thought he could have done it very quickly, as long as it was in fact possible. But he noticed that not a single student carried with them a map or dictionary; the knowledge was in their heads, or it wasn't. "It is an exercise in concentration."

"A type of meditation," the boy agreed. "To acquaint us with the shapes of the symbols so we may access their full potential."

Tobias didn't know why the boy was telling him this. They certainly hadn't got off to a good start. But perhaps this was what students did, sharing knowledge even with outsiders. He wished it was this way in the capital. No one in the castle seemed to share his thirst for wisdom, or be remotely inclined to spend days sifting through ancient manuscripts in search of one obscure reference. But then again, he was the Sage; it was to be expected that he alone would be so fascinated by such things. But he was not alone here in this ancient city.

The boy-- Aiden-- watched the stranger's face as they walked. He was a stranger not only to him, but to the city; his accent was sharp and his skin showed that he rarely spent time in the sun. Eovyn was a city of scholars who far preferred reading to physical work, but beneath the scorching sun that shone without end no one stayed so pale. He stumbled over the narrow road, too, clumsy over the cobbles interrupted by strips of bare stone carved with old symbols, or pockmarked where cobbles had been carved out and replaced by different stones-- smooth obsidian for warding away sadness, fist-sized chunks of marble to ensure academic success, here and there purplish river-stones left as signs of mourning. They said that eventually so many stones would have been torn away and replaced that Eovyn would become a city with streets paved of gems. The funny part of that, Aiden thought, would be that tourists like this boy would keep coming, to gawk at the roads laid out in brilliant colors and glistening jewels, and the mages would keep striding right over them without notice of the riches they were grinding beneath the heels of their feet.

After all, knowledge weighs less than gold, takes up less room than silk, and is worth more than diamonds, or so they were taught.

Near  the side of the road, though still slowing traffic as the road was only a few feet wide to begin with, an old woman was gnawing a large cobble from its place with a small chisel. Lying next to her was a rounded chunk of misty-white glass, the kind noble ladies liked for jewelry and called diamond-pearl despite the fact it was made of sand. The stranger-boy slowed and gaped at it, no doubt calculating just how much the bulbous piece was worth. The old woman would stuff it into the cobbles outside her house without a thought in exchange for the easy birth of a grandchild, or so lore promised.

If he was stunned by that, Aiden hoped he didn't notice the slivers of gold that had been melted in cracks in the road a few steps away by someone very eager to gain wisdom quickly.

"Where are you from?" He asked. Certainly not a farming town, or he wouldn't be so pale and scrawny, so from another city-- perhaps Raelsia, where the only other great university in Solangia was located. 

"The capital," the stranger said, rather tersely. 

Perhaps, Aiden thought, he was a merchant's son then-- many merchants had begun moving their homes from Maenar, the main port, to the capital, so they could be closer to politics and, more to the point, chances to marry into noble families.

"Where are you from?" The stranger turned his question on him.

"Here. What's your name?"

"Tobias."

He could tell now that he was originally from Maenar. Anywhere else they would have called him Toe-bye-iss, but he said his name with the fluid vowels of a native Maenarian-- Tobeeus-- even though every other trace of his accent was gone. Aiden almost felt sorry for him. How sad to live in one place when you had been born in another-- and especially to leave it for the capital! No one could want to end up there.

They continued down the spiraling street. It would have been much quicker to take a straight road to the center of the city had there been one, but there wasn't. The streets of Eovyn had been circular like this since even before it had been claimed by the mages; the straighter streets that blossomed off these main walking-ways farther away from the center had been laid down much later. It was a very old city indeed; only a few other places on the continent could boast this strange design, and none were so well preserved. With the exception of the bejeweled streets, Eovyn had hardly been altered in a thousand years, only added on to at the edges.

The buildings here, especially as they neared the center, were rarely much higher than their heads, and were all of the same material: grey stone carved into rough bricks, softened by centuries of rain and age. No mortor could be seen; elegant crafts-work held them together. It was common to find smoothed-out bands of the same stone over the uncommonly small windows and narrow doors, carved with symbols of power and protection. Some of them were as ancient as the structures themselves; others had been carved over these older symbols, found so worn down they could hardly be read.

There were no sloped or pointed roofs; they were all flat, with openings where ladders could be seen poking out for access to the flat top. These square holes also served to let smoke out (making climbing the ladder a sooty business when the fire was going), and had hooks hammered into them so canvas could be secured over the opening during heavy rainfall. Each roof also had its own gutter, so rainwater could be swept to the side and let pour out on the heads of unwary passersby. Tourists were the usual victims of this chore, as any local knew to avoid the edges of the streets after a rainfall-- which was nearly everyday, for Eovyn was a thick slice of jungle-like climate preserved by some ancient art, even as the rest of Solangia had cooled and dried with the ages. 

Tobias was taking it all in, Aiden could see, from the glass-less windows to the vines and green fuzz that clung to the buildings, which were locked in tight rows, curving with the road. There was no break in them; no way to take a short cut to the center. Eovyn was a city that demanded you take your time.

"I'm Aiden," he volunteered finally, because Tobias hadn't asked.

The stranger glanced at him, then went back to closely watching the buildings they passed on either side. Still not looking at him, he asked, "Are you heading to the university?"

"To the cloisters I am, if that's what you mean."

One could not really say within the city that they were going to the university, as the entire city was the university, with masters' lecture halls sprinkled throughout, or classes held in the so-called lecture gardens found only in Eovyn. They were passing one now-- a gap in the houses, a narrow ally shadowed in grey stone so you could not see exactly what it lead too, though all the lecture gardens were mostly the same on the other side of the ally. Ribs of the same grey stone branched off the houses on either side of the courtyard you emerged into and met in several interconnecting arches overhead, like the skeleton of a great tent without the canvas thrown over it. The ground was stone brick laid in a spiraling pattern, and also arranged in concentric circles were rectangular blocks of granite, used as benches, that would be crowded with students during a lecture. In the center was a taller block on which the master would stand. There was very little of a traditional garden involved, actually, besides the ribbon of verdant greenery that wrapped around the courtyard. 

But the cloisters were the center of the university, if not quite the center of the city. No, that they were approaching now.

The central courtyard, the oldest location in the city, sacred to mages and to whatever race had laid down its stone bricks. The etchings and carvings of its centerpiece, a raised circle of stone eight feet in diameter, made the rest of the city look pristine.

Symbols of power were cut all along its edges, and signs of protection engraved so thickly that, with each not even as large as a fingernail, the ribbon they covered around the circle was a foot thick. Ancient blessings of prosperity and wisdom were sliced in the skin of the stone with all the grace and flourishes of a scroll written in ink, and intricate emblems had been carved so deeply the black core of the stone could be seen glittering at the bottom of their strokes. But barely half of it could have been read, even if the mages had known all the symbols, for the heart of the city was the one place age had truly struck Eovyn. The thick stone was cracked, almost splintered in places, and whole wedges had been broken off the edge of the slab. So not just from its gurgling geyser did the sacred spring of Eovyn gush, but from irreparable cracks in the stone as well.

The water gushed over the slab in jets, frothy and laced with crushed crystals or salt that glittered painfully in their eyes under the sun. It rushed off the raised circle and surged around the in the shallow basin of rough white granite that smoothed out into the central courtyard, then gushed through slats in the courtyard's floor.

"Where does it go?" Tobias demanded.

"Back into the spring. Reused. The masters think there must be a pool beneath the courtyard where it rushes down and is pulled up again."

"How?" The boy asked, with the same bossy tone, but Aiden didn't mind the chance to brag about his city.

"It was here before we settled Eovyn, so no one knows how it was built or how they made it work, and the masters refuse to let anyone chop up the courtyard to look underneath. They say that if it's the Sacred Art at work, they could ruin the spells and we'd have no way of putting them back. But there are plenty of theories about it filed in the university library."

"That's why I came," the stranger said. "I want to see the library."

"Good luck," Aiden said, with a tone that said luck wouldn't be enough to get a stranger through those doors.

"Take me there," he demanded anyway.

"Only," Aiden said, "Because it's in the cloisters, and I'm going there anyway. You can come along." He took one of the many streets that branched off the courtyard and strode down it purposefully, the stranger hurrying to keep up. They began to see more people dressed in green student robes or the dark brown of masters. Clumps of people who appeared to be in the middle of heated debates clogged the road, many with their arms full of scrolls and books. No one seemed to find this abnormal at all or even inconvenient; they threaded their way around the gesticulating clumps like they were inanimate obstacles.

Tobias, wishing Aiden weren't so quick, scrambled to keep up with his long legs, catching drifts of conversation from all directions.

"...no, I'm sure that's wrong, Master Elentrose said--"

"--don't be ridiculous, those symbols are only for--"

"I told him mixing gold and sulfar was a bad idea!"

Most of it was incomprehensible, a strange new state of affairs. He had memorized whole history books, but the world of mages was new territory. 

They street ended suddenly in a large courtyard of mossy grey stone, walled in by the tallest building Tobias had yet seen in Eovyn, three stories tall. It also had glass panes in its arched windows-- unusual for its costliness and the fact that all other buildings had open windows. He supposed they needed both protection for the books and light to read them by, for this was clearly the library. 

"Here you are," said Aiden. "I'm going on to the cloisters, so I leave you here."

"Wait!" Said Tobias, before the other boy could walk more than three steps away. "I... I'll come with you. I want to learn my way around." To his questioning and almost suspicious glance, he defended, "I'm going to be spending a lot of time here."

"I can't stop you from following me," Aiden said coolly, so the Sage trailed him to another interconnecting courtyard, this one hemmed in on three sides by a gallery of elegant arches through which heavy wooden doors swung open and closed almost without pause as students came and went from their sleeping spaces. The courtyard itself was clearly newer than most of the city, the ground laid with smooth red bricks rather than aged grey stone. There seemed to be certain spaces marked out by changes in the pattern of the brickwork which the students treated as walls, sitting and studying in some 'rooms' or meditating in others, and people walking in between made sure to stay in the 'hallways'  that separated them. 

"Showing around a new student, Amathos?" Ezren Regenmace stood up and cut across the courtyard, spoiling several students' illusions that they had their own private rooms and earning more than a few glares. 

"I don't know." Aiden glared at Tobias. "What are you? Not a student, right?"

"I'm not your kind of student."

Ezren crossed his arms and studied the stranger, and Tobias returned the look. Ezren was tall and slender but broad-shouldered, at odds with the students around him who had clearly never picked up a sword in their life. His green robes were not tied as most others tied theirs, instead hanging open enough to show a sliver of a deep blue tunic beneath-- silk, noble cloth.

But of course, Tobias already knew that. He'd recognized the young noble immediately, even before he saw the tell-tale residue of dark brown die that could not be scrubbed completely away from the top of his forehead. Only nobles or high-standing merchants died light hair dark, a remnant of history reminding everyone that those of pure Solangian blood would have only black or rich brown hair. Even here, surrounded by students of the Sacred Art, Ezren could not resist the urge to comply with a noble's vanity.

Tobias's hair was straw-colored, and despite having lived at court for years he detested the dyes of nobles and wealthy men. Appearances were nothing; knowledge was everything. He doubted Ezren could have learned much at the university if he was still concerned with silk tunics and soft black leather boots that went up to his knees, with heels of at least an inch.

"Then what are you?" Ezren asked finally.

"I'm here to learn."

"But you're not our kind of student," he sneered.

"No."

Aiden watched the exchange with interest, though he kept his face painfully bored. This stranger was a mystery, at once coolly confident-- the way he'd pronounced the tracing useless, the way he stood still and defiant beneath Ezren's icy gaze-- and still unsure of himself in every step.

Well, he didn't need a mystery to solve, he decided. He had more important things to worry about.

"Good luck, Amathos," Ezren said, shooting one last narrowed look at Tobias. Aiden scowled. He hadn't claimed the boy as his responsibility.

As the noble-student walked away Tobias drew himself up higher. Aiden hadn't realized how the stranger had compacted himself under Ezren's gaze. While he hadn't shied away from Regenmace, he clearly didn't like him. "Good riddance," he said.

"He's not gone," Aiden told him sharply. If this stranger would be hanging around he had to get used to the noble. Aiden certainly wasn't going to be holding his hand and steering him around the older student. "He's just heading to the duels."

"What duels?" The boy was clearly thinking of sword duels.

"Sacred duels," Aiden said, annoyed. It looked like he would be stuck giving a tour, as long as Tobias insisted on asking so many questions. "Over there." He demonstrated where over there was by walking over to the far side of the courtyard, where one of the 'rooms' was sunk a few inches deeper into the brick ground, marking out a shallow practice arena. Ezren had joined the cluster forming there as a master rattled off the rules without bothering to look at the scroll in his hand.

"--serious injuries are to be avoided, any serious injuries sustained will be the responsibility of the injurer to pay for and provide any assistance needed while the injured recovers. Spells and spelled items of the fifth, fourth and third degree may be used, spells of the second and first may not, neither may spells of uncatagorized power. Not knowing what degree a spell is classified in is no excuse and use of it may be grounds for suspension or even expulsion from the University." With that final warning, he stepped aside and sat on the ground, immersing himself in a book as the students flurried to choose who would participate first.

A glint appeared in Tobias's eye, and a sliver of a dangerous smile slid across his face before he quelled it. "Will you fight?" He asked Aiden.

"No," he said with a scowl, watching venemously as Ezren claimed a spot in the first duel.

"Why not?"

"Shut up."

"You could just say you don't like losing," Tobias huffed, drawing back and faking indignation and hurt. "It's pretty obvious you couldn't beat him." 

Aiden spun around with more speed that Tobias would have thought him capable of and grabbed a handful of his tunic, yanking him closer. "Ezren ever-damned Regenmace has in his wildest dreams a hundredth of my power!"

He hadn't just hissed it, he'd practically screamed it.

Ezren reached out with one hand and shoved his would-be opponent out of the arena, his eyes on Aiden. "Was that a challenge, Amathos?"

Aiden seethed. Tobias waited.

Then Regenmace hurled something small and dark through the air. Aiden threw up a shield of emerald fire and the entire courtyard seemed to draw back as one, scrambling out of the way of the flickering flames, which sizzled ominously as the black rock hit them and exploded in smoke. A wind picked up in a split second, though who called on it was not clear. It whipped through the courtyard and ripped several more of Ezren's stones from his hand, knocking them into the brick ground or stone walls so soon ghosts of sulfur-smelling smoke that stung the skin were lashed about like whips.

Clearly Aiden's claim about the noble's power had been exaggerated. The air between them grew dim and threatening with a mixture of powders and bursts of magic thrown in by both of them, swirling around like storm clouds. That was apparently an appropriate comparison, as a moment later a bolt of something like lightning aimed for Aiden's chest tossed him to the ground. A crack of thunder, and a streak of green fire flew towards Ezren, who ducked and wound up to throw another smokestone at Aiden, who was getting to his feet. He was pulling something from the pocket of his robe-- a short, sturdy stick he slapped against his hand. Within a second it grew to the length of a full staff that caught fire in a shade of violent green.

There was murder in his eyes, and whatever happened next may have been frightening indeed had a voice not suddenly dampened every wisp of smoke and flame to the ground with a single shouted word.

A black-haired woman dressed in grey had appeared between the arches of the gallery, called by the screams and thunder of the duel, and the look in her eyes was far more terrifying than any student's.

"Aiden Amathos," she began quietly. "Let us pretend for a moment that you have some iota of self-restraint in order to answer this simple question. Were you or were you not made aware that you had been suspended from this university for three months?"

Aiden's face had gone as pale as Tobias's. "Yes," he whispered, gripping his suddenly cold staff.

"Were you made aware of the reason you were suspended?"

"Yes."

"Did you know if it had been up to me I would have expelled you?"

Any warmth that had been left in him after expending so much energy on his flames drained from his body. "Yes, Master Eyro."

"So what," she hissed, striding across the courtyard and crackling the air around her with frost, "Made you think it would be a prudent idea to come back here and do the exact same thing?" She seized one of his wrists in her ice-cold hand, making him whimper as frost bit his skin. Staring down at him she whispered, "Three more months, Amathos. In addition to the others."

A gasp swept through the crowd of students. Half a year of suspension for one of the most gifted students of the school-- it was almost unheard of. He could feel their wide-eyed pity settling on his shoulders. 

She broke her grip. His skin stung pink and tingled where he could hardly feel it anymore, frost crystals crusting his wrist. He didn't dare look up as she turned to soot-streaked Regenmace with his hands full of ashes. "Careful," she said with narrowed eyes, fingering the blue jade pendant at her neck. "Or you'll end up like Amathos."

Aiden knew what she thought of him. Her warning to Ezren had nothing to do with threat of punishment, but threat of becoming who Aiden was.

Tears burning in his eyes, he fled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That was amazing!" Tobias found him curled up in the shaded alcove of a lecture garden, nearly hidden by overgrown grass and spiky plants with small violet flowers, and promptly had to duck a shard of green fire aimed at his face. But Aiden lacked the focus at the moment to do much else.

"Didn't you hear her?" He shouted. "Half a year! She may as well have expelled me!"

"You're being over dramatic." Tobias sat cross-legged next to him, remarkably calm despite everything he had just witnessed. "You weren't expelled, and being suspended is not the same thing, no matter how long it may be. Out of curiosity, though, do they usually give such big punishments for using too much magic?"

"For using too much of the sacred art, no," he mumbled. "My first offense may have been-- uh-- a bit more..." He was evidently unwilling to specify what exactly it had been, so Tobias let it go. There would time to figure it out.

"Well, since you've got six months of time to fill, how about coming with me? We could use you."

"Who's we?"

"Me and the prince." When Aiden only gaped at him, he decided the mage could probably handle the shock. "I've been talking to Aeric-- His Highness, to you-- about raising a new faction of the guard once he's king. Like an everything guard, for extra bits and pieces and ideas we want to try out. Rather unorthodox ideas, most of them are. That's why we need this Auxiliary Guard. That's what we're going to call it, I think. Anyway, one of our ideas was..." He trailed off and pursed his lips in a way that made him look very old. "How about helping us integrate mages into it?"

A pause. "Into your Auxiliary Guard."

"Yes."

"It'll never happen."

"Why not? Help us try. We'll make a deal-- come to the capital and see how you like it, and I'll get some strings pulled so your suspension can be shortened. Who knows, you might even want to stay with us. We could do great things, the four of us. I mean me and Aeric and Abram-- you'll meet him when we get there."

"Well. I suppose it couldn't hurt."

It could, of course. And it did. Tobias's split-second decision to invite Aiden to the capital and Aiden's decision to accept hurt a great many people. But that was years away, after everything went wrong, after everything changed, after Aiden swore his life to destroying the king and every residual taint of everything he stood for, even if he had to face the High Lord Tobias, Sage of Solangia, himself. 

But for now the two boys shook hands, each with no idea that the other one may just be a match for him, and Aiden sealed the deal with a spark of emerald fire.