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from every conceivable variation fate could present. Suppose that someone proposed this solution to his masters as his fifth-form thesis. Do you suppose that such a man might get an appointment as counselor to a battle wizard? Perhaps,” he added wistfully, “such a man might flout tradition and gain not just a counselor’s role, but his own command.”
    Matteo’s jaw dropped. For a long moment he struggled to take in this revelation. “Is it true? You have solved the Kilmaruu Paradox?”
    “I think so,” Andris said modestly.
    “You think so?” Matteo echoed reprovingly. This matter could determine the entire course of his friend’s life. It was too important for light words and imprecise speech. “A jordain thinks first, and only then speaks.”
    It was a familiar proverb, one that had guided their training for over twenty years. The words had the desired effect The young man’s chin lifted confidently.
    “Yes. Yes, I have devised a battle strategy that will clear the swamp of undead.”
    Matteo let out a whoop and threw his arms around his friend, spinning him around and off the ground. They fell into a tangled heap and began to wrestle like puppies at play.
    After quite some time, they tired of this sport and broke apart, sprawling out on the ground and panting with contented exhaustion. Andris sent a wistful look at his friend. “You really think that this will earn me a position with a patron of note?”
    Matteo linked his hands behind his head and smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Grozalum himself demanded your hire,” he said, naming the powerful illusionist who ruled the port city of Khaerbaal, Halruaa’s most important naval base.
    “Jordaini at alert,” demanded a deep, sonorous voice from the gatehouse. “First honors. Wizards in the house.”
    The two young men scrambled to their feet and hurried into position at the edge of the training field. Their fellow students gathered there, standing at respectful attention, feet at precise shoulder width, hands clasped behind their backs, and eyes level as they awaited the arrival of the visiting dignitary.
    Life in Halruaa was orderly, governed by laws and customs that were detailed and precise. Protocol was an important part of any higher education, for each stratum of society was afforded certain privileges and honors. Wizards enjoyed the highest position, hence first honors. The posture assumed by the jordaini showed the respect that propriety demanded, but it also bespoke their own high status. Second in class only to the wizards, they were a highly trained elite. After all, they represented truth, a power quite different from magic but just as powerful in its sphere. Law and custom decreed that only a jordain could meet a wizard’s eyes at all times. Those of lesser rank lowered their gaze respectfully before addressing a strange magic-wielder.
    Matteo’s eyes widened as the wizardly entourage swept into the compound. Quickly he schooled his face into a more seemly composure, but he couldn’t help but stare at the unusual visitors.
    A score of well-armed men marched into the field, following each other in two lines that framed two extraordinary creatures. The larger of these was a wemic, a centaurlike creature that appeared to be half man, half lion. The beast’s body was massive, nearly the size of a small horse, and his golden-skinned torso was as thick and muscular as Themo’s. Matteo made a note to compose a satire for his classmate on this theme at first opportunity.
    The wemic’s face would be considered handsome in a man, though his nose was larger and broader than human features were wont to be, and the pupils in his golden eyes were vertical, like a cat’s. A thick mane of glossy black hair fell to his shoulders, and an earring set with a large red stone glittered in one rounded, leonine ear.
    But it was the other being upon whom Matteo’s eyes lingered longest. Elves were a rarity in Halruaa. A few elf folk, most of them