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couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
    That disappointment flared into hot, sickening shame when the ground rumbled around him, and Taichon's shu'kra erupted from Naraka's red stone.
    The shu'kra , or cavern-worm, was a ravenous rock-eating monster the size of one of Cana's sewer pipes. Rasmus could only see its head and a few segments of bright pink skin; the rest of the creature's long body was hidden underground. The exposed portion was still nine or ten feet long, leaving him to wonder exactly how massive the worm's whole body must be.
    Its head was a nightmare of clacking mandibles and spinning, grinding teeth in a vertically slitted mouth, with no apparent eyes, but Taichon reached up and patted the worm on its salivating maw with no evidence of discomfort.
    “There's a good boy,” Taichon said, smiling up at the shu'kra . “You're hungry, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll have plenty for you to eat.”
    Taichon had the pale skin of a Damascan and a mop of curly black hair. He was the son of a minor noble—one of Overlord Eli's relatives, Rasmus had heard—and the two boys were much the same age. Rasmus had come to study in Naraka only four days before Taichon showed up, and they had been trained together ever since. By rights, they should be closer than brothers by now, after three years of rigorous training in the history and methods of Naraka.
    Rasmus hated him.
    There was no test in which Taichon didn't have to out-perform Rasmus, no trial he didn't have to complete just a little faster. He had his noble training to fall back on, that was what it was. Rasmus was the son of a weaver, he didn't have the sorts of advantages that a rich boy like Taichon must have enjoyed. It wasn't fair that they should be held to the same standard.
    “Marvelous!” Tutor Petrus said, clapping his hands and beaming at Taichon. “You're doing a wonderful job of exercising such delicate control. In the best partnerships, as you know, there's a subtle degree of give-and-take.”
    Taichon ran a hand down the cavern-worm's pale skin. “I never thought it would be so easy. You just have to nudge him in the right direction, don't you? He knows what he's doing. It's not even a command, really, so much as a request.”
    Tutor Petrus chuckled. He was an older man, perhaps as old as Rasmus' grandfather, with a bulging belly and a prominent bald spot. The boys were lucky to have him, or so they were told, because he usually served as the personal advisor to Overlord Malachi himself. He had a soft eye for Taichon, that was for sure.
    “Binding a shu'kra at your age. You'll be in high demand around here if you can keep this up, I’ll say that for certain. We haven't had a good rock-worker at the outpost in years. Once we get past your Initiation, you can help us expand the farmland, maybe even clear out that tunnel between the Cana and Eltarim waypoints. We'll put you and your worms to work, son, no need to worry about that.”
    Finally, Taichon seemed to remember that Rasmus was there. It was about time someone did.
    “What happened to the ash hound, Rasmus?” Taichon asked.  
    The question sounded innocent enough, but Rasmus' face burned. He knew what the other boy was doing. He was trying to compare his shu'kra to a plain runt of a dog. “I sent him off,” Rasmus said casually, just as if he didn't notice Taichon's plan. “There was no reason to keep him around, I can always call another.”
    “Have you given it a name yet?”
    “Why would I? It’s not as though it’s special. If I need a hound, I’ll just call up the closest one.” On a sudden burst of inspiration, he decided to try and get the instructor on his side. “Then again, I haven’t heard Tutor Petrus' input. Sir, what can you tell us about ash hound naming conventions?” Tutor Petrus rarely missed an opportunity to demonstrate his familiarity with Narakan history.
    The old man flapped a hand in Rasmus' direction, walking over to squint at Taichon's worm.