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room was lit by thick beeswax candles that stood in silver candleholders on the table. The candles could thus be easily picked up and carried about to suit the convenience of the apprentices as they went about their studies.
    This was the only room in the great castle of Fistandantilus lit by candles. In all others, glass globes with continual light spells cast upon them hovered in the air, shedding magical radiance to lighten the gloom that was perpetual in this dark fortress. The globes were not used in the Learning Room, however, for one very good reason—if brought into this room,their light would instantly fail—a Dispel Magic spell was in constant effect here. Thus the need for candles and the need to keep out any influence that might be gleaned from the sun or the two light-shedding moons.
    Six of the apprentices sat near each other at one table, some talking together, a few studying in silence. The seventh sat apart, at a table far across the room. Occasionally one of the six would raise his head and cast an uneasy glance at the one who sat apart, then lower his head quickly, for, no matter who looked or at what time, the seventh always seemed to be staring back at them.
    The seventh found this amusing, and he indulged in a bitter smile. Raistlin had not found much to smile about during these months he had been living in the castle of Fistandantilus. It had not been an easy time for him. Oh, it had been simple enough to maintain the deception, keeping Fistandantilus from guessing his true identity, concealing his true powers, making it seem as if he were simply one of this group of fools working to gain the favor of the great wizard and thus become his apprentice.
    Deception was life’s blood to Raistlin. He even enjoyed his little games of oneupsmanship with the apprentices, always doing things just a little bit better, always keeping them nervous, offguard. He enjoyed his game with Fistandantilus, too. He could sense the archmage watching him. He knew what the great wizard was thinking—who
is
this apprentice? Where does he get the power that the archmage could feel burn within the young man but could not define.
    Sometimes Raistlin thought he could detect Fistandantilus studying his face, as though thinking it looked familiar.…
    No, Raistlin enjoyed the game. But it was totally unexpected that he come upon something he had
not
enjoyed. And that was to be forcibly reminded of the most unhappy time of his life—his old school days.
    The Sly One
—that had been his nickname among the apprentices at his old Master’s school. Never liked, never trusted, feared even by his own Master, Raistlin spent a lonely, embittered youth. The only person who ever cared for himhad been his twin brother, Caramon, and
his
love was so patronizing and smothering that Raistlin often found the hatred of his classmates easier to accept.
    And now, even though he despised these idiots seeking to please a Master who would—in the end—only murder the one chosen, even though he enjoyed fooling them and taunting them, Raistlin still felt a pang sometimes, in the loneliness of the night, when he heard them together, laughing.…
    Angrily, he reminded himself that this was all beneath his concern. He had a greater goal to achieve. He had to concentrate, conserve his strength. For today was the day, the day Fistandantilus would choose his apprentice.
    You six will leave, Raistlin thought to himself. You will leave hating and despising me, and none of you will ever know that one of you owes me his life!
    The door to the Learning Room opened with a creak, sending a jolt of alarm through the six black-robed figures sitting at the table. Raistlin, watching them with a twisted smile, saw the same sneering smile reflected on the wizened, gray face of the man who stood in the doorway.
    The wizard’s glittering gaze went to each of the six in turn, causing each to pale and lower his hooded head while hands toyed with spell components or clenched