Cyrus' first lesson with Master Guillaume was about to begin. He sat in the center of the room, waiting with no little anxiety for the arrival of his new teacher, presumably another of the many aged, respectable scholars that were the school's trademark.

When Guillaume finally showed up, all of the boy's expectations were defenestrated with shocking abruptness. Instead of the wise old master he had anticipated, the youthful, jolly man who appeared at the door had a dazed look on his face, and seemed to quite forget that there was anything in front of him, nearly tripping over the tables, chairs, and in fact his own feet on his way to the teacher's desk. Sitting down, he smiled at Cyrus and opened up a monstrous tome to the very first page.

"You must be ze Syroos, n'est-ce pas? Perfect! We will start at ze beginning." He glanced down at the text to remind him precisely what the beginning was. "Where is zat... ah, of course. Do you know the Ilesian for 'allo? It is 'bonjour.' Now, repeat it with me. 'Bonjour!"'

Cyrus greeted him with a stupefied stare, and after a moment remembered himself well enough to stutter out a feeble, "Bonjour." This man was going to teach him Ilesian? But he was a native speaker, in theory the best kind of teacher one could find.

"Very good. Now, we will start with a few of ze simple words, and after, ze little sentences. Are you ready?"

"Uh... oui?" he said hesitantly.

"Ah, très bien! C'est comme si tu parles déjà l'ilesie!" the young master exclaimed excitedly.

The youth creased his forehead in confusion. "I didn't quite follow that..."

"Do not worry. You will know zat soon enough, as I will teach you everything!"

And indeed, it was seemingly everything that he learned. Despite the teacher's distracted manner, his knowledge of Ilesian was nearly exhaustive. At the end of even this first lesson, he found that his mind could hardly contain the amount of information that Guillaume had imparted. In reality, it appeared that Ilesian was so complicated, it was a wonder that they could speak to each other at all. Yet he had no choice but to learn it if he was to succeed in his search for clues.

"Merci beaucoup, Maître Guillaume. Au revoir!"

"A demain, Syroos!"

He went away from the lesson satisfied, if slightly overwhelmed by the new knowledge he had gained. Since it was growing late, he decided to retire a little earlier than usual, but encountered Master Arturo unexpectedly on his way to the dormitories.

"Cyrus! How did you find Master Guillaume?"

"Quite excellent, sir."

The headmaster beamed. "I knew you would. In any case, Micael is feeling a little better, I think, though we still cannot guess what power he possesses. We'll continue testing him. But it certainly seems that there may be more to him than meets the eye. Keep it in mind, my young friend. And now, I must go. Have a good night!"

Cyrus bid him farewell, and entered his and Micael's bedroom, which was illuminated only by the silver light of the moon. He promptly went to sleep in order to prepare for the next day.

In his dreams, a curious scene was visible. He stood upon the coarse cobbles of an old street in a place he had never been. Everything was surrounded by fog which seemed inviting despite its concealing nature. Along the sides of the road, there were beautifully shaped street lamps which cast wavery beams of light in four directions, by which he could just barely see the path below. The buildings, too, were old, but all of them had a careworn, comforting feel to them. He wandered around the streets, looking for people to give him direction, but there was no one to be found. This was not alarming, however; he felt almost liberated by the absence of demands. He spent a long time there, searching about for something that was at the same time incredibly important and completely unnecessary.

He awoke to the sound of bells declaring the arrival of morning in their sonorous voices. Time once again to go through the devastating boredom of Halbert and the interesting excitement of Westinia, to be followed by the edifying lessons provided by Guillaume. Life at the Accademia was proving amenable, if not entirely perfect.

The boy walked to the dining hall as usual, but it turned out that the twins were not there. Curious, he returned to the commons, to find Kale sitting on one of the chairs by the wall, looking uncharacteristically glum,

"What's wrong?"

"Haven't you heard? They're going to have individual evaluations today, to see where our skills are. I never do well on this sort of thing."

"Cheer up, I'm sure it'll go fine. When are they scheduled for?"

"They're sending down messengers every so often to call for the next group, organized by element. My sister and I are earth affinities too, you know. It doesn't matter when they call us, anyway, since I won't be ready no matter which one I'm in," he said gloomily.

"Come on, don't worry about it! We're all here to learn, right?"

"Well... I suppose. Anyway, there's no class today, so why don't we play a game of joccia while we wait?"

Joccia was a popular game among the students of the Accademia. The game was played on a board with alternating squares on it, upon which one placed a set of identical tokens. The rules were rather esoteric, and the more advanced players could be heard debating complex technical points well into the evening; still the basic object was relatively understandable. Each of the players would choose white or black squares to fill, and whoever covered the most spaces of their color won. Neither Cyrus nor Kale were very well versed in the game, but they still had a diverting time attempting to prevent the other from cheating, although when precisely this was occurring was something quite difficult to tell.

An older student entered from the main hall and announced that the first group of evaluations was coming up.

"First, the water mages, please."

A fair number of students detached themselves from their present occupations and trooped off behind the messenger to go to the examination room. In recognition of the special requirements of a magical university, the Accademia was equipped with several rooms designed to have especially strong resistance to all forms of damage, magical or physical. It was into one of these that the students to be tested went, one at a time; the purpose was as much to keep the performance private as to prevent others from being harmed by the errant magical forces which might well severely injure those students not accustomed to protecting themselves from such onslaughts. Many a time, a pupil had inadvertently directed their energies towards the judges, who fortunately had the strength and speed to safely divert most accidents of this kind.

The order of testing was randomly selected, but Cyrus had a feeling that the earth mages would be next. As it turned out, the messenger came down shortly thereafter, followed by the previous set of mages, and called for the boys to come in.

Cyrus came before Kale in the line-up, and as he was preparing to go in, the anxious boy bid him good luck while looking more nervous than he had previously believed possible over such a thing. He thanked him and strode through the door into the exam room.

It was rather larger than the outside had led him to expect. Presumably, the interior was made so to accommodate the more extravagant uses of magic practiced by the advanced students. In the back of the room, three masters whom Cyrus did not recognize looked on solemnly.

"What is it that I must do?"

One of the judges gestured, and Cyrus suddenly noticed a giant stone which he was sure had not been there when he entered the room. "Break that rock," the master said, before settling back to observe.

The youth took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly, clearing his mind of all thought. He began to concentrate the ambient energy into. a tight blade-like extension, and thrust it towards the rock. Immediately, it split into two parts and fell apart upon the floor.

Far to the rear, the three judges looked to each other and nodded slowly. The second one gestured and spoke. "See what is in the center of the room."

Caught by the simplicity of his request, Cyrus looked into the center and realized that was not what was meant. He must look with his awareness, taking care not to let it expand unchecked. He cautiously, delicately drifted into the trance state which was necessary to sense such things. Slowly, an image began to form.

"The letter A?"

As soon as he said it, it vanished from his vision. Opening his eyes, he looked again at the trio of judges. As before, they all nodded to one another slowly. The final judge spoke, saying "Be on your guard. If you do not defend, you could be injured slightly. Get ready!"

He stood up, and swirling energy coalesced over his outstretched palms. He did not move, yet the energy began to fly rapidly towards the boy. Now he was in a tight spot indeed, for he was not familiar with the techniques of defense against magic. Still, he did the best he could, spreading the earth's energies in front of him like a shield. As he watched them draw closer, his confidence wavered and he nearly jumped out of the way, but once they hit the shield he had made with his mind, they bounced off harmlessly and faded into nothing.

"Thank you, that is all." The judges simply looked at him without any further comment as he walked out of the door.

"How did it go?" said Kale, who was by this point nearly shaking with anxiety.

"Fine, fine. Don't worry about it, it'll be easy. You have to break a rock, sense the shape in the middle of the room, and defend yourself against a light attack. You'll do fine."

"But I can't do any of those things! And if I can defend, what will happen to me?"

"Oh, the attack's hardly dangerous. Even if it hit you, you'd just be a little shaken for a bit, but not harmed in the slightest. It'll be fine! Just go."

"You're sure?"

"Of course." At the door, the messenger indicated for the boy to enter. "Best of luck to you!"

He waited around outside for what seemed like ages while his friend was being tested. When the boy finally came out, the look on his face was one of utter horror.

"I failed completely!"

"Surely you didn't --"

"The most I could do to the rock was nudge it a little, I made up the symbol in the center, and the attack hit me dead on! Gave me a nasty bruise, too," he said, as he rubbed his forearm.

Cyrus sighed. "I'm sorry. Hey, look, it's not a big deal, right? So you don't do so well on the test. You can learn all of that stuff! It'll work out."

"I doubt it," he said, sounding more despondent than ever.

"Why don't you take Kara up on her offer of tutoring you? She could teach you the practical stuff just as well as the theory."

"I guess you're right. I don't want to have to be embarrassed like that again."

"Your reason isn't too great, but at least you'll do it now. Isn't that a load off your mind?"

"I suppose. Come on, let's go get lunch."

The pair walked quickly to the dining hall, where Kara was waiting for them with a beaming smile.

"Your exam went well, I assume?"

"Spectacular! How about you two?"

"Alright," Cyrus replied, while at the same time Kale said "I don't want to talk about it."

"Kale, you know I can help you with this sort of thing," Kara chided him gently.

"I know, I know. I guess I'll take you up on it."

"Finally! I'm glad you've gotten some sense at last."

"Thank Cyrus, not me."

"Well then, thank you for changing his mind."

He nodded. "Where's Micael?"

"Instead of taking exams, he's following around Master Arturo and watching them. He even sat in for some of them, although he was safely behind the judges -- of course."

"I should hope so! Anyway, that's good. What shall we do for the rest of the day?"

"Relax, of course; what else are examination days for?"

They spent a leisurely day around the commons, and Cyrus did little until the time for his lesson with Guillaume came around.

"Bonjour, Syroos!"

"Bonjour, Maître Guillaume. Qu'est-ce que je vais apprendre aujourd'hui?" What am I going to learn today?

"Beaucoup de choses. Es-tu preparé?" A great many things. Are you prepared?

"Bien sûr. Allons-y!" Of course. Let's go!

The young teacher's methods were unusually effective. After only one lesson with the Ilesian, he had already been given a sound foundation for the language, and they primarily worked on expanding his vocabulary this time. Once seeming impossible, it appeared that he might learn the language to a usable degree before the spring, and thus be able to leave at the earliest opportunity. The dark wintry months would soon come to an end in any case, and he would at last be able to continue the quest upon which Saltrio had sent him.

The months passed much the same as they had before, and Cyrus and Micael enjoyed their time at the Accademia, but the former began to feel a certain wanderlust rising up within himself. As spring finally began to approach, Cyrus' long-awaited release finally came, though not perhaps in the manner that he had anticipated.

"So, you'll be leave soon.

"Yes, I must be departing. I haven't told you, but Micael, you'll have to stay here."

"But I want to go with you!"

"You know I can't take you with me to Ilesia. It'd be too dangerous for you to attempt the sea voyage, and besides, Master Arturo has grown rather fond of you. It'd be cruel to take you away just now."

The little boy sighed in disappointment, but said nothing more.

"Well... I'm off, I suppose. I'll miss you! Don't worry, I'll be back someday!"

Kara gave him a little hug and Kale shook his hand sorrowfully. "Come back safely, and as soon as you can!"

He nodded, and smiled wistfully. "Farewell!" He walked a little bit, then turned back and waved before setting off on the next leg of his long journey.

Cyrus had only been in the city of Rallia a few times since he first arrived at the Accademia, but it was familiar as ever once he returned to its ill-repaired streets and uneven houses. He worked his way swiftly towards the west, where the docks stood. Once he reached them, he was distracted yet again by the infinite variety of the scintillating waters, for the bay of Rallia was almost peerless in terms of beauty. Soon, though, he recovered his senses, and went to find a boat which was traveling to Ilesia, far to the northwest.

The first boat he found that was traveling there proved too expensive, but the second was captained by a kindly fellow named Jacques, for whom the trip was a voyage home.

"Ah, you can ride for less than the usual price. I haven't the heart to refuse you, since you're so young, and besides, money is scarce around here, and I need all the business I can get. Come aboard, and we'll find you a cabin."

Jacques' ship was reasonably roomy, with several cabins, a galley, a cargo hold full of fabrics, and a sizable deck. Cyrus was soon tucked away in a surprisingly spacious cabin, considering the size of the ship they were on. He speculated that it might be intended for upper class passengers, but the captain didn't seem to have any other passengers.

"I must confess, the business has been slim as of late. Few people want to travel to Ilesia, for the trade is starting to sour. Ilesian wine has been surprisingly poor this year, and so it's hard to make a profit. I lament the loss of our wine, truly, for there are none better in the world than ours. But c'est la vie."

"Oui, je suis d'accord." Yes, I agree.

"Oh, tu parles l'ilesie?" Oh, you speak Ilesian?

"Oui, plus ou moins." Yes, more or less.

"Il n'y a pas beaucoup d'étrangers qui le parlent." There aren't many foreigners who speak it.

"Je l'ai étudié pour faire mes devoirs là sans traducteur." I have studied it in order to do my tasks there without a translator.

"Et quels sont tes devoirs?" And what are your tasks?

"Je ne peux pas te le dire." I can't tell you.

"Ah, c'est un secret? Ça alors!" Oh, it's a secret? How about that, he said with amusement.

"Vraiment! Il est trop important, je ne peux pas le dire." Really! It's too important, I can't say.

"Bon, gards tes secrets. Il n'importe pas." Fine, keep your secrets. It matters not.

"I have to prepare for the boat's departure now. You must excuse me," he said, nodding courteously before tending to the ship. Cyrus walked about on the deck, looking at the dense collection of ships that dotted the harbor. This might be the last view he had of Rallia for some time, and he wanted to remember the moment.

Accompanied by the shouts of the hands on deck, the ship slowly began to move away from the crowded dock and carve a path through the water. They were underway.

At first, Cyrus was rather unimpressed with the boat's travel. It seemed that they were moving very slowly, and that he might as well have tried to walk the whole way across the Locurian. But soon the wind picked up, and the pace quickened tremendously.

The motion of the ship through the water was swift and steady, and the surroundings could be seen with great clarity. All around, nothing but the sea and the sky was visible, although to the southeast the dome of the Garden was still plainly in sight, for nothing so large was that easily left behind. Since the weather was fair, Cyrus remained on the deck to admire the view. There was nothing for a long ways in front, and the ride took on a calming character.

"How do you like your first sea voyage?" asked the captain.

"Oh, it's wonderful!"

"Then you should be warned, it is unlikely that we will get through this passage without a storm. And that is something you will find less than wonderful."

Wondering at his dark words, Cyrus leaned on the side of the deck to relax and enjoy the trip.

As if in response to Jacques' ominous portent, a storm rolled in more suddenly than the boy had thought possible. Roiling clouds appeared in the sky, and the initial rains were deceptively light. They grew to a torrential downpour in minutes, and the first unsettling rumbles of thunder could be heard. The boy felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and without warning the first strike of lightning could be seen off the starboard bow. For the first time during the voyage, Cyrus was truly afraid of what might happen on this trip.

The waves started to get higher and choppier, and the boat began to toss up and down in the tumultuous waters. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire ship, crew and all, was going to overturn and sink into the ocean depths, but it passed and the ride was merely nerve-wracking rather than truly terrifying.

Rumbling could still be heard, but it seemed that the worst was already over. The disturbance passed almost as soon as it had come.

Jacques informed him of the situation's comparative lightness. "That was nothing, my friend. It was a little one, just for practice. No, this sea, she does not rest with just a little bit of clouds. You will see."

The boy was less inclined to doubt his words, now that he had seen the first demonstration of the water's power. He fervently hoped that he would not have the opportunity to experience the sea's full uproar. But the waters seemed to be quiescent, for the moment at least. Relaxing slightly, Cyrus returned to exploring the ship's many quarters, and while it was by no means expansive, he still enjoyed seeking out its various nooks and crannies as the boat sailed on smoothly across the surface.

Noting the captain unoccupied, he decided to indulge his curiosity by making inquiries about the man's past.

"Jacques, why did you become a sailor?"

"My father was always a man of the sea. It was the natural thing to do. You know, in Ilesia, we do only what our fathers have done; some regret it, but I have never truly want a change. Sometimes, for a moment or two, I long for the life on land, with its stability and calm. But I would never be able to give up the adventure. The sea and I, we have known each other a long time. I do not think either of us would be willing to part from the other."

"But you've never seriously thought about settling down?"

"In truth, not for very long. The sea, she calls to a sailor's heart; I cannot imagine living on dry land for all my days. It is something that you are born with, and it will never go away, just as many people in the cities never go on the ships if they can help it. In any case, it is not unpleasant, to be sure. I love life here, when you can see the waves and the sky and there is no one to tell you how to live. There is nothing better."

Cyrus returned to his cabin for a small rest, and reflected on Jacques' words. Thinking about how easy his own life would be if no one ever told him to do anything, he realized that this was precisely what he did not want. Back at home, he had been growing bored with life in general before the chance had come along for adventure. If no one had given him the idea, he would have remained at home, being involved in nothing more important than walks through the forest and the occasional tumble in the pathways outside his sleepy village. Instead, he was on the way to a foreign country, and on the most important mission he could imagine; to find the Gardener, and hopefully restore the ailing sun with the intent of saving the entire world thereby. He had learned more magical skills in his brief sojourn at the Accademia than he had in the past 8 years of his life, and now knew an entire new language in his attempt to accomplish the quest on which Saltrio had sent him. Though the old mage might not have known the extent of the efforts he would have to make, the boy suspected that he knew more than he had let on, as demonstrated by his conversation with the goddess Verbena. Indeed, his own death had been discussed at that time, a prospect which, now that he remembered it, was distinctly unnerving. He had not been in any such pressing danger so far. Wherein, then, lay the reason for the sage's dire words?

His reverie was cut short by another disconcerting rumble. Another storm? Yet this time, once he had returned to the deck, the weather was infinitely worse. Sweeping towards them on the horizon were waves so large they could easily engulf the boat in a deluge of saltwater, and the lightning began to strike almost continuously as the storm front drew nigh.

Much more than before, the boy began to feel real fear. He gulped, and looked to Jacques for reassurance. But the captain was busy shouting orders to his men, and had a worried expression that was the double of his own. If even the cavalier Jacques was fazed by the oncoming storm, there was cause for concern indeed. He decided to go down into the holds out of the way of the scrambling deck-hands, and wait out the weather's fury there.

Once removed from harm's way, Cyrus sat there huddled on the ship's floor, feeling slightly queasy due to the constant rocking. The swaying and creaking became so alarming that he had to venture back on deck to determine just how much danger they were in. When he reemerged, the situation appeared to have only worsened. Monstrous and towering, the waves which he had seen earlier were nearly upon the prow of the ship. All around him were chaotic shouts and a general feverish anxiety which had infused all the crew with nervous energy.

At last, the waves had come. With the first barrage, the ship rode up the swell and barely crested the wave rather than falling backwards into oblivion. Everyone lurched sickeningly in the process of this first assault, but the next wave was coming soon after, and they had to brace themselves as best they could. Once again, they were tossed up like a tiny dinghy in the tumult.

The violent motion had grown too much for Cyrus, and he rushed to the side to empty the contents of his stomach. A foul taste remained in his mouth, but there was nothing to be done, and he shuddered slightly before returning to hide himself in the holds, no longer able to stand the psychic onslaught of the endless waves.

Cowering in the bowels of the ship, he felt somewhat ashamed of himself but had not the courage to go and face the storm as all of the shipmates were forced to. Yet then, he realized something. Even if he remained hidden, his ultimate fate would be the same. Being down below would make no difference if he were going to die, and if not, it would be better to face it together with the others. He steeled himself against his fears, and climbed out of the hold back onto the still rocking deck.

Almost immediately, another set of waves buffeted the already imperiled ship. It was difficult to stand up due to the bombardment, but the boy struggled on deck, and stared his fear down. The sea was no longer his enemy, but his own weakness, and it was time to be stronger for the other challenges he would have to face. Surely, he would prove that Saltrio's faith was not misplaced, and outright refused to die in such an ignominious fashion. He raised his head into the wind and rain in defiance. As though it were cowed by his new-found courage, the weather began to calm, until it was as if the storm had never been.

All of the wet and bedraggled sailors looked at each other and clapped themselves on the back for their successful weathering of the sea's attempt to destroy them. They were so relieved to be alive that the distant sighting of land almost went unnoticed until they were closer in to shore. Marais, the grand city of Ilesia, was visible on the horizon, its graceful spires and curving architecture standing against the bright, clear sky.

A thought flitted through Cyrus' mind. Was not the sun just a little dimmer? Despite the coming of spring, the light had not returned to its normal brightness, and seemed somehow sickly, not quite as strong as before. He was reminded once again of the reasons for undertaking this voyage, and hoped that he would come soon to a successful conclusion.

Within what seemed like minutes, they were disembarking from the ship, and Cyrus bid farewell to the captain. "Jacques, I must thank you as much as I can. You have given me passage for next to nothing on such a dangerous voyage, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

"Ah, it was nothing. I always want to help those who need it, and you need it as much as any. Why not make something easier for a change, no?"

"True, true. Well, I am going now. Good bye! Thank you!"

"Au revoir, mon ami, and good luck!"