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the answer and she always wanted to make sure that everyoneknew it. How could he have been so unlucky as to be attacked by dire wolves
and
to get her for a mentor—all in one day?
    Lowadar interrupted his thoughts. “It’s a strange time at Aldwyns. Don’t misunderstand. Study is always intense. Magic is always dangerous. Dark forces are a constant shadow to those who seek to manipulate ancient knowledge.” The wizard lifted his hand and gestured at the great hall. “But this is also a place of wonder, of promise, of beauty. You may not realize it yet, but you are lucky to be here.”
    “Anyone with half a brain would realize they’re lucky to be here,” Helene murmured in his other ear.
    But Lowadar’s words had woven their spell on Dorian, and he barely heard the elf girl.
    He looked around him, head turning slowly, taking it in. It was there, he realized, all around him, the feeling that he was some place … special.
    They walked down red tiled halls past students in robes of white and green and purple, and blue—and the red robes of first-years students, the kind Dorian knew he would soon be wearing.
    He saw the Towers of Information, Enchantment, and Protection Magic on the way to his dorm room along the back wall of the academy. Lowadar walked slightly ahead, leaving the pupils to talk with each other. Dorian rather wished he hadn’t, and he knew Helene felt the same way.
    Through massive windows and open doors he caught sight of grounds carefully landscaped to evoke the feel of a manicured park, and he couldn’t wait to start exploring the property on his own.
    “Back among those rocky hills,” Helene said, voice smug as ever, “is the Cavern of the Quivering Mushrooms.”
    Dorian strained to see the spot, but it was hidden by the folds in the earth. “Mushrooms?”
    “A first year like yourself would do well to stay away from them. They’re much too sensitive for a blundering ox like you,” she said.
    She turned and strolled away after the headmaster.
    “I’m not the one who had snow fall on her head,” he muttered in reply.
    “Did you say something?” The voice was cool.
    Dorian spun and found himself face-to-face with Professor Fife. The woman gazed down on him with a look so cold it was imperial. Her mouth was set in a short, hard line.
    He swallowed hard. “Me? Nothing.”
    “Pupil Helene is, of course, correct,” the woman said, just as if Dorian hadn’t spoken. “The Cavern of the Quivering Mushrooms is not a place for first years to enter lightly.”
    “I didn’t say I was going anywhere near them!” Dorian protested.
    “You seem given to emotional outbursts,” the professor said. Her voice dripped with disapproval. “That isn’t going to be helpful with spells.” She paused. “Or in those caverns, for that matter. You’ll find yourself knocked asleep in a second, like many a foolish student has before you.”
    Professor Fife turned and left. Everybody at Aldwyns seemed to have a habit of walking off and leaving him.
    “I didn’t say anything about the caverns,” Dorian repeated, but no one was listening.
    He looked up the hall and saw Lowadar stopped in conversation with the blond elf, Professor Ives. Helene seemed to be taking great pains not to notice the teacher, and studied her wand intently.
    What’s her problem? he wondered again, and hurried to catch up with the archmage.
    By the time Lowadar showed him the cavernous library and left him in the hallway outside his new room, Dorian was convinced of two things: one, that Aldwyns was one of the most magical places on the earth, and two, that his mentor, Helene, was the worst thing in the entire school.
    After Lowadar left them, they stood apart, both looking in opposite directions as they figured out how to escape from each other.
    They were in a long hallway at the very rear of the academy. It ran from east to west, and along one side were the dorm rooms of the first- and second-year students.
    From out of