Zandru's Forge Read Free Page A

lose his temper now.
    What was he doing, to provoke a confrontation this way? What was wrong with him? Courtesy cost nothing, but insults might well create future enemies. If he succeeded, these boys would become his fellow students. Beside, the only person whose opinion mattered was, after all, the Keeper himself.
    Not trusting himself to say anything further, Varzil simply bowed to them. It was the only thing he could think of which would not make matters worse.
    The boy named Eduin retreated from the balcony, muttering something about proper respect for the dignity of the Tower. Varzil was concentrating too hard on holding his tongue to catch all the words. But the other youth, the one who had cautioned restraint, remained.
    Varzil raised his eyes. The sun caught the brilliant red of the other boy’s hair, the luminous gray eyes, the regular features. Both Tower lads wore simple clothing, tunics with wide leather belts, with no clue as to clan or rank.
    “Boy,” he called down, and this time the word carried no insult. His voice was strong and clear, as if he’d trained as a singer. “What do you want with the Keeper of Arilinn Tower?”
    “I’ve come to—I want to join the Tower.” There it was.
    For a long moment, the youth continued to study him. With a nod and, “Wait here,” he disappeared back into the Tower.
    Varzil let out the breath he did not know he had been holding. While he tried to calm himself, the Veil shimmered and parted like an iridescent waterfall. A man in a loose white monitor’s robe stepped through. Gray dominated his chestnut-red hair and lines framed his mouth and underscored his eyes. A few paces behind came the youth from the balcony. This close, Varzil was struck by the other boy’s commanding sense of presence.
    The man in the white robe paused, his gaze flickering over the colors of Varzil’s cloak, the gold and green of his clan.
    “Vai Dom...” Varzil broke the silence. “I am Varzil Ridenow, younger son of Dom Felix of Sweetwater. I have come to seek training here. Will you be so kind as to escort me to the Keeper?”
    The taut mouth softened into a glimmer of a smile. “Young sir, I can imagine nothing more appropriate. I certainly wouldn’t presume to decide what to do with you.”
    Varzil approached the Veil, as the white-robed man indicated. He’d never been so close to such a powerful matrix device before, only personal starstones or the telepathic damper the Ridenow household leronis had used when his mother had one of her fainting spells.
    He held up one hand, fingers extended but not daring yet to touch the Veil. Besides a thing of beauty, what was it? Two people—three if he counted the kyrri —had passed through it as if it had been a tissue of gauze.
    He turned his head to see the monitor watching him intently. Another test, then. He set his jaw and strode ahead.
    The Veil looked like a thin rainbow mist, and he had expected it to feel cool and perhaps damp. The instant it touched him, it shifted, engulfing him. He gasped, drawing in breath tainted with the metallic taste of a thunderstorm. The skin of his entire body tingled, each hair erect. The small muscles around his eyes twitched. He could not feel his fingertips.
    The next instant, he stood trembling in a windowless cubicle. Although he was no longer directly within a matrix field, he sensed the power in the little room, as if it were itself a laran device. Turning to look behind him, he made out shapes, blurred and shadowy. Was this some kind of trap? Another test?
    Then the white-robed monitor stepped through the rainbow shimmer. The youth followed him, grinning.
    “I told you so,” the youth said.
    Told him what? Varzil wondered.
    The man moved his hands as if manipulating something and Varzil’s stomach plummeted to his feet. No, he still stood upon a solid floor, but the room itself was rising. It stopped a moment later and they stepped through an arched doorway that appeared in one wall. The