which is iebera , and so also the sepal, which is partonath ; and stem and leaf and root hath each his
name. . . .”
But under his tree the Archmage Ged, who knew all the names of moly,
withdrew his sending and, stretching out his legs more comfortably and keeping his eyes
shut, presently fell asleep in the leaf-spotted sunlight.
CHAPTER 2
THE MASTERS OF ROKE
T HE SCHOOL ON R OKE IS where boys who show promise in sorcery are sent from all the Inner
Lands of Earthsea to learn the highest arts of magic. There they become proficient in
the various kinds of sorcery, learning names, and runes, and skills, and spells, and
what should and what should not be done, and why. And there, after long practice, and if
hand and mind and spirit all keep pace together, they may be named wizard, and receive
the staff of power. True wizards are made only on Roke.
Since there are sorcerers and witches on all the isles, and the uses of
magic are as needful to their people as bread and as delightful as music, so the School
of Wizardry is a place held in reverence. The nine mages who are the Masters of the
School are considered the equals of the great princes of the Archipelago. Their master,
the warden of Roke, the Archmage, is held to be accountable to no man at all, except the
King of All the Isles; and that only by an act of fealty, by heart’s gift, for not
even a king could constrain so great a mage to serve the common law, if his will were
otherwise.Yet even in the kingless centuries, the Archmages of Roke
kept fealty and served that common law. All was done on Roke as it had been done for
many hundreds of years; a place safe from all trouble it seemed, and the laughter of
boys rang in the echoing courts and down the broad, cold corridors of the Great
House.
Arren’s guide about the school was a stocky lad whose cloak was
clasped at the neck with silver, a token that he had passed his novicehood and was a
proven sorcerer, studying to gain his staff. He was called Gamble,
“because,” said he, “my parents had six girls, and the seventh child,
my father said, was a gamble against Fate.” He was an agreeable companion, quick
of mind and tongue. At another time Arren would have enjoyed his humor, but today his
mind was too full. He did not pay him very much attention, in fact. And Gamble, with a
natural wish to be given credit for existence, began to take advantage of the
guest’s absentmindedness. He told him strange facts about the school, and then
told him strange lies about the school, and to all of them Arren said, “Oh,
yes” or “I see,” until Gamble thought him a royal idiot.
“Of course they don’t cook in here,” he said, showing
Arren past the huge stone kitchens all alive with the glitter of copper cauldrons and
the clatter of chopping-knives and the eye-prickling smell of onions. “It’s
just for show. We come to the refectory, and everybody charms up whatever he wants to
eat. Saves dishwashing too.”
“Yes, I see,” said Arren politely.
“Of course novices who haven’t learnt the spells yet often
lose agood deal of weight, their first months here; but they learn.
There’s one boy from Havnor who always tries for roast chicken, but all he ever
gets is millet mush. He can’t seem to get his spells past millet mush. He did get
a dried haddock along with it, yesterday.” Gamble was getting hoarse with the
effort to push his guest into incredulity. He gave up and stopped talking.
“Where . . . what land does the Archmage come
from?” said that guest, not even looking at the mighty gallery through which they
were walking, all carven on wall and arched ceiling with the Thousand-Leaved Tree.
“Gont,” said Gamble. “He was a village goatherd
there.”
Now, at this plain and well-known fact, the boy from Enlad turned and
looked with disapproving unbelief at Gamble. “A goatherd?”
“That’s what most