“Can you find your way back to our room on your own?” Eli asked.

Damien spared his roommate a glance. It was one floor down and two turns. He’d manage. “Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the tour.”

Eli patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

His guide walked back down the hall and soon disappeared around a corner. Damien adjusted his tunic and knocked. The door swung open and standing behind it was a beautiful, dark-haired woman about thirty. She had a slim, graceful figure and wore a long black dress slit on both sides up to mid-thigh. A plunging neckline revealed her considerable cleavage.

Damien bowed. “Damien St. Cloud reporting for instruction, ma’am.”

She laughed—more of a witchy cackle really—and said, “So formal. I’m Ann and since we’ll be spending a lot of time together you should probably relax. Come on in.”

She moved aside and let him enter the small, nearly empty room. The teachers were certainly strange. They had no interest in any sort of discipline that he could see. Ann led him over to the two chairs set three feet apart that were the room’s sole furnishings. She sat in one and gestured to the other.

When Damien took his seat she said, “I assume Thomas explained the school rules to you.”

Damien shook his head. “No, ma’am, no one’s explained much of anything to me beyond the fact that I’m to live and train here for some time. Everything’s so odd. There are no uniforms, no classes, no real structure. The headmaster wants me to call him by his first name. If any student called the Master of The Citadel by his first name he’d soon be picking himself up off the floor.”

Her smile held the same warmth as Master Shen’s. “I see. You’re the first student we’ve ever had that spent time at The Citadel. We’re not as rigid with our training because we can’t be. Every sorcerer learns their art at a different pace and in their own way. All sorcerers must find his or her own path. Our job as masters is to teach the basics, offer advice, and keep everyone from getting hurt. The last one is the most difficult. The only hard and unbreakable rule is that you’re not allowed to use your powers on another student or master. Break that rule once and you get twenty lashes. Break it a second time and the punishment is banishment in the Northlands. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. If we’re not to use our powers on other students how do we practice?”

“Practice is different. Training in combat techniques with a master overseeing happens all the time, though not until you finish your first year of training. What I’m talking about is unsupervised mischief or violence. Also your movements are restricted to The Tower grounds until you complete your training.”

As rules went those two seemed fair, after all the last thing they’d want is two boys fighting over a girl to blow up the dining hall. But it didn’t sound like he’d be visiting Jen and Lizzy anytime soon. “Is there anything else?”

“Not really. Want to try a basic technique?”

Damien’s heart fluttered. To finally tap his soul force was something he’d dreamed about for years. Now that it was going to happen his mouth felt dry and his hands trembled. “What do I do?”

“Imagine a bit of your power, about the size of a grain of rice, above the palm of your hand.”

Damien imagined the speck of energy flowing through his arm and out his palm. Nothing. His soul force remained as inert as ever. He slumped in his chair. It wouldn’t be any different here.

“Not like that.”

Damien looked up at his teacher. “Ma’am?”

“Don’t try to push the energy through your body. That’s the way warlords use soul force. Our power can’t travel through our bodies. Picture the grain of energy appearing just above your hand like it came out of nowhere.”

Damien frowned, held out his hand, and imagined the power just appearing. A blinding light like a second sun burst to life above his hand. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Douse it, douse it!”

How the hell was he supposed to do that? Damien clenched his fist around the speck of energy and willed it to return to where it came from. He opened his eyes and spots danced before them. At least the light had vanished.

Ann gaped at him.

“Sorry, ma’am. What did I do wrong?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Not a thing, Damien. In fact you did something amazing. You recovered your unused energy and returned it to your core. That’s a rare skill. The excessive light was my fault. You used the exact right amount of energy; I failed to allow for how dense your soul force is. I need to adjust my instructions down by at least four times when I work with you.”

She held out a hand and a ball of warm, golden light appeared above it. “This is what I expected. I used the same amount of soul force as you, but mine is so much less dense it only makes this little light.”

“I see,” Damien said, though in truth he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t worry about it now. Let’s try something else. This is a mental trick unique to sorcerers that lets you see another’s soul force.” She held her hands together in a circle just above her belly button. “Focus here and try to look through my dress, skin, and muscle to the core of my body.”

Damien stared, trying to imagine the thin black cloth parting, then the skin and muscle under it. He squinted and soon a ball of golden energy became clear. He flinched and it vanished. It seemed so different from what he sensed inside himself. His power felt roiled and agitated while hers seemed smooth and calm.

When he pointed this out she said, “Everyone’s power is different. Yours will calm in time. Part of your problem is you’ve been prodding it to do things it can’t. Now that you’re using it properly it should smooth out. With time and practice you’ll be able to do more than see soul force, you’ll also be able to sense it as well. Now try again.”

He focused and her soul force appeared at once, smooth and serene as the surface of a pond on a calm day. Then it vanished. Damien squinted, trying to get the image to reappear.

“You can stop now. I raised my shield to block your vision. That’s another trick sorcerers developed to hide their power from each other. Of course, if you see someone with no visible soul force you’ll know they’re a sorcerer, just not how strong. Building your shield is the final thing I’ll teach you tonight. You’ll want to get your power hidden before you meet the other students.”

Damien nodded, remembering how Eli had stared at him when they first met. “What do I do?”

“Take a small ball of soul force, about the size of a marble, and imagine it turning into a liquid. Once you have that, imagine the liquid covering your whole body, always a little above your skin.”

Damien did what she said and soon a golden second skin covered him. “Like this?” He couldn’t be doing it right. Her shield was invisible.

“Exactly. I can’t see your core anymore. Now we just need to make your personal shield a little less obvious. Focus on the shield and imagine it turning clear, like water.”

Damien did as she said. The light vanished, but he could still sense his shield. It was wavering like it wanted to shatter. “The power’s running out.” He tried and failed to conceal his concern.

“That’s okay. You have to do one more thing to make it sustaining. Do you sense the power flowing into your core to replace what you used?”

He turned his focus inward and sensed a rushing power, like a river with no origin, flooding into the small empty space in his core. “Yes.”

“Good. Now imagine most of that flow going to your shield instead of your core.”

Damien frowned as he tried to redirect the river. He divided it into small streams and sent them out just above his skin and below the shield. He sent a stream to each of his extremities, then some to his back and chest and finally his head. With the streams in place he sent little tendrils of power into the shield and it stopped wavering. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Sweat covered his back and neck. He’d run ten miles without getting this worn out.

Ann was staring at him again. Now what had he done? “Ma’am?”

She gave herself a little shake. “Sorry, but whatever you’ve created here is far more than a simple shield to hide your core. Your body generates more soul force every minute than some sorcerers can contain in their core. With that much power running through your shield I could probably drop a boulder on you and not break your skin. It’s absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you?”

Ann smiled. “I know a little about warlord training. While our powers work differently, the focus and mental discipline you’ve gained through your earlier training has clearly made this transition easier for you. I’ve worked with many students and no one has used their power as naturally as you. I think you’ll find your training serves you well as we continue your studies.”

She yawned and stretched. Damien tried to ignore her breasts straining to escape out the top of her dress. “I’m beat and you look all in. Let’s call it a night. Come back in the morning after breakfast and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

Damien leapt to his feet and bowed. “Yes, ma’am. Any time in particular?”

She got up and waved a hand. “Whenever you get done eating is fine.”

They walked together to the staircase. When they reached the landing she turned to continue up. “Good night.”

Damien nodded. “Ma’am.” He started down the stairs to his room.

He’d only gone a couple of steps when he heard her mutter, “So formal.”

As he walked down stairs he reflected on what Mistress Ann had said. Maybe all the time he spent meditating and failing to move his power would turn out to be time well spent after all.

When he reached the second-floor landing his stomach rumbled. He’d completely lost track of time. Was dinner over? Damien turned toward the dining hall, hoping he hadn’t missed his chance. He smelled garlic and onions, but heard nothing that suggested anyone was in the hall. He pushed the doors open and sighed. The room was empty of students. A pair of women in black-and-white servants’ uniforms scrubbed the tables and a third person, a bald man as wide as he was tall and wearing a grease-stained apron, stood behind the serving counter.

Damien put on his best smile and ambled up to the counter. “Excuse me, I was late finishing my day’s training and missed dinner. Is there any chance you have some leftovers?”

The man scowled at him. “I don’t know you.”

“No sir, this is my first day.”

“Ah, you’re the one everyone was talking about. They seemed disappointed you weren’t here.”

Damien blinked, surprised anyone besides Eli was even aware he was here. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see them at breakfast. So, do you have anything? Please?” His stomach growled its own request.

“Just a minute.” He ducked back into the kitchen, grumbling all the way. Damien smiled, relieved to find at least one normal person in this place. He’d feared the kingdom had gathered up all the oddballs and sent them here. The cook returned a minute later carrying a plate with a roll heaped with meat and onions. “This’ll have to do. There’s water in the barrel down at the end of the counter.”

Damien accepted the plate and bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

He ate quickly and returned his plate and cup to the cook. He yawned and headed for his room. It had been a long, strange day and he was ready for a good night’s sleep. He met no one on his walk back. Inside his room he found Eli sitting at his desk reading. His roommate glanced at him and smiled. “Got your shield up I see.”

Damien nodded, sat on the edge of his bed, and kicked his shoes off. “Did you break into a sweat the first time you made a shield?”

Eli laughed and closed his book. “Are you kidding? It took me three days to get mine to work. How’d you manage it in an afternoon?”

Damien shrugged. “I just did what she said and it worked. It was one hell of a relief, let me tell you. I’ve been beating my head against the wall for a year and a half trying to get my power to move. It helps if your teacher tells you the right way to use it.”

Eli snorted. “I imagine it does. Everyone will be jealous of you. Not only did you get your shield to work on your first day, but you got assigned to Mistress Ann. Talk about lucky.”

“Lucky?” Damien thought he understood what the other boy meant, but wanted to be certain.

Eli held his hands out in front of his chest. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get a good look at her. It’s a wonder you could concentrate on your lesson.”

Damien thought about Lizzy constantly appearing naked whenever they met. A woman with her clothes on, even one as well proportioned as Mistress Ann, wasn’t enough to break his focus. “She certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.”