Knights Magi (Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking for.  To his surprise, the old mage did not reject it as an analogy.
    “Then you might consider that learning swordplay is but another discipline you have studied.  Approach the others as you approach swordplay, and you may find your studies bearing riper fruit.  Mistress Selvedine will be examining you for your knowledge of the Lesser Elements after lunch in the Monk’s Study,” he reminded him.  “Good day, Sir Tyndal, and good luck.”  With that he left the depressed young mage staring at door of the crowded dining room, looking for a spot.
    All of the regular tables were filled, of course – seating assignments had been handed down at the beginning of the term, and were rigorously enforced.  He had to eat at the “special” tables, the ones designated for guests and visiting dignitaries.  They were at the front of the room, on the dais just below the Master’s Table . . . where everyone could stare at him.
    Worse, Rondal was already there.  And he had a book sitting open next to his trencher.  Could he not even eat without reading?
    Tyndal was starting to resent Rondal, resent him mightily, as the examination process continued.  The reminders of Rondal’s successes and his failures seemed to come hourly.  The scrawny, brown-headed apprentice had zoomed through the basic First Form examinations quickly, and had done most of the Second Form the second week, earning passing grades in biology, natural science, symbology, basic elemental theory, physics, magic theory and philosophy, mathematics and practical cantrips.
    Now he was into the beginning stages of the Third Form: high elemental magic, alchemy, thermomantics, photomantics, magical history, thaumaturgy, spellcraft, geometry.  Every master they’d had in common had mentioned how impressive Rondal was, before learning just how poorly trained Tyndal was. 
    Worse even than that humiliation was Rondal’s attitude.   He was rarely prideful and almost never boasted about his more advanced education.  Instead he was humble, displaying a pronounced humility in the face of his opportunity.  In fact, he was frequently apologetic and tried to be helpful to Tyndal as he struggled through the sea of parchment.  It was perhaps his most annoying trait.
    There was no avoiding him, however.  He had to eat.  And they had been quartered in the same room, upon their master’s request.  That didn’t mean they had to talk overmuch, he reasoned.
    Sighing and steeling himself for the encounter, he pulled a trencher from the great basket at the serving table, added a few sausages, beans and some vegetables, sliced off a wedge of cheese, and poured an earthenware mug of the weak ale they served before he made his way to the spot directly across from Rondal.  Tyndal was not one to avoid a confrontation, even when he was not eager for it.
    “How did you fare?” Rondal asked quietly, as he sipped his ale.
    “Beastly,” Tyndal admitted, despite his inclination not to discuss it.  “I know as much about the Philosophy of Magic as I do necromancy, now.”  Since neither boy had studied that obscure branch of their Art, Rondal nodded his head.
    “Don’t worry,” his fellow soothed, “Philosophy of Magic isn’t that important.  Not really ,” he added, unconvincingly as Tyndal drank. 
    “Do you really think Master Min is going to share that opinion?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he put down his mug.  The ale was terrible here.  Watery, like it was brewed in a mop bucket. He swallowed half of his mug in his first pull.
    “No,” Rondal admitted.  “But I can—”
    “Don’t,” Tyndal said, sharply, setting down his mug with a thud.  “If I can’t do it, I can’t do it.   I don’t need you to make my excuses for me!”
    “I wasn’t going to suggest I do,” Rondal said, indignantly.  “I was just going to try to explain that you hadn’t had the time to immerse yourself in the proper texts on Philosophy of Magic.  It’s