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on the small and then fractured in succession disputes and insurrections. From his earliest boyhood, Carolin had heard the lords of his own family arguing, debating, struggling to restrain the worst abuses of laran weaponry. He remembered his uncle Rafael saying, over and over again, “There must be a way.”
    The ruins of the Towers and the desolation of the Lake of Hali, the result of an ancient disaster known as the Cataclysm, remained as mute witnesses to their failure.
    Carolin snapped out of his reverie. He stood before his own door, fingers brushing the wooden latch, as if he’d been caught in a waking dream. When he returned to his window, the Ridenow boy was gone. Carolin knew, with that atavistic certainty, that they would meet again.

    Carolin made his way down the stairs and across the central room to the smaller chamber where his afternoon session, practicing the basics of monitoring with the other beginning students, met. He caught a snatch of conversation between the older workers as they sat together before the cold fireplace.
    “... Ridenow ...” “... who sent him?...”
    As he crossed the room, the two broke off their conversation. Darkeyed Marella looked up at Carolin and smiled. Only a few years his senior, she had flirted with him at Midsummer Festival, a tenday after he’d arrived at Arilinn. Despite his efforts to behave properly, she’d figured prominently in his dreams for a while. Carolin knew she was aware of the effect she had on him, for at his grandfather’s court, he’d been the target of many feminine wiles. The combination of youth, good looks, and a crown attracted eligible ladies like a honeycomb attracted scorpion-ants. Only with his kinswoman, Maura Elhalyn, and Jandria, the cousin of his foster-brother Orain, did he feel fully at ease, but they were back at Carcosa.
    Marella’s companion, a slab-faced older man named Richardo, who never seemed to smile at anything, got to his feet. He nodded to Carolin and hurried away. Color rising to her cheeks, Marella followed him, so that Carolin had no chance to ask questions.
    It was just as well. He had been at Arilinn long enough to know that telepaths operated under a different set of social proprieties than ordinary people did. Some kinds of privacy were impossible, such as sexual attraction. Casual physical contact could be as offensive as an outright assault when people lived in such intimacy. Yet no code of Tower etiquette could overcome Carolin’s inborn curiosity. It was a fault he’d long struggled to overcome.
    Although Carolin’s family, the Hasturs of Carcosa, worshiped the Lord of Light, as was proper for the Comyn caste, he had also studied the teachings of the cristoforos. One prayer, in particular, had struck him as appropriate to his own character, Grant me, 0 Bearer of the World’s Burdens, to know what Thou givest me to know ... Sometimes that meant to keep his nose out of affairs which might cause him to lose it, and his entire head as well. At other times, such as this one, the prayer suggested that it was his right and responsibility to find out what was going on, although it did not imply how or when.
    At his uncle’s court, there was hardly a moment when some plot or scheme was not simmering. Political undercurrents were as numerous and changing as motes of dust in the air. Carolin had learned patience and the usefulness of a blankly innocent expression. In due time, he would find out.

    Carolin focused his thoughts on the task at hand, starstone practice with the other beginners. The class took place in a small, airy room that had been pleasant when he arrived at Arilinn in the summer, but now felt drafty. In another month or so, they would all be bundled in outdoor clothing against the chill.
    He took his place around the worktable with the other students, three boys he didn’t know well. Their teacher was Cerriana, an older girl with fiery red hair who had little interest in socializing with boys the age