"And as you progress through the nine disciplines, one of them will call to you. One of them will resonate like the noon bell, echoing against a talent you might never have known existed. That, Thatcher, is how you will know which realm to make your Focus in the upcoming years. Are there any other burning questions, or may I finish my lesson now?"

Six hands sprout like weeds above the pack of sitting students. Reluctantly, Sandborne-Sensei fields each in turn, eyes darting from troublemaker to troublemaker to catch them in the act. A pigtailed girl in the last row brags at whisper level to her friends that she already knows her Focus while a freckled boy two rows in tries to balance a pencil on his nose surreptiously. A matter of months under Sandborne-Sensei's searchlight eyes and they'll grow silent and poised, able to fill a room with cautious noise and shush at a pindrop. Taya's witnessed it for two years and counting.

She sits on a desk far behind them, the only desk in the room, hunched over a book on magical theory. Taya prefers to let her eyes gloss over the words while listening to the younger students and their exploits. She has sympathy for the few late bloomers who hover in the middle of the clump of students. She wishes she could give them a word of encouragement, like "you'll be caught up by the end of the year, everyone always is" except she's far too shy to approach them.

The freckled boy asks a question that leaves his peers in giggle fits and perks Sandborne-Sensei's wrath. Taya glances up and accidentally meets her teacher's stare from across the room. She flinches, slumps, and flips a page in her theory book. She's not distracted, honest. She's reading all about, um, the principles of magic. She's not remotely bored or out of place in the back of a grade one classroom.

". . .you have your partners. Go. Sample. Frolick. Experience the joys of the nine paths-- Creck, you have three seconds to remove that pencil before I fuse it to your skull."

Taya forces herself to process what she reads. It's difficult to focus on pages of words that only vaguely mean anything to her. If teachers, highly skilled teachers, couldn't kindle a spark of skill in her, she wonders how useful books can be. Watching students half her age master more than she ever will doesn't encourage her much.

But, she doesn't complain. She prefers her reading to the days they would leave her in class with her peers, where her failure to cast ended in uproars of laughter. Ideally, she'd like to be worthy of class with her peers, but she settles on what she can get.

Sandborne-Sensei's shadow looms over her desk. How long has she been there?

"My, how engrossed you are, Taya. Using your study time well?"

"Y- yes, Sandborne-Sensei. This book is very, um, interesting."

"You do realize that I dismissed the class five minutes ago?"

Taya flushes and closes her text. "Oh. I'll, ah, leave then." She opens the desk and retrieves a small bag of supplies. "And I'll finish the next chapter by tommorrow, again, so that I stay on schedule. . ."

Sandborne-Sensei leans on Taya's desk, staring down her nose at the nervous child. Taya slouches forward, tightens her grip on the bag, and lowers her eyes. "I think your reading only helps as much as you let it help."

Taya stares blankly at her lap. She isn't sure what she wants to make of that. "Sensei?"

"Never," Sandborne-Sensei snatches the book and waggles it for emphasis, "never have I come across someone with so little drive to improve herself when it was so sorely needed. No other teacher has, either. Ever! Why are you in my class, Taya?"

"Because I can't cast spells, and the Teacher's Council through I would be more comfortable in a lower level. . ." she flinches immediately, a dozen better phrases crossing her mind seconds too late.

"No, Taya." She hears Sandborne-Sensei exhale, a sound too tense to qualify as a sigh. "They put you here so I could motivate you past this roadblock you've built for yourself."

"O- oh." Taya dares to look up, though she stares back down at the woodgrain. I don't build my own roadblocks, she thinks. I can't cast because I honestly can't do it.

"Nobody can't use magic, Taya. They may choose to avoid it, but they always have the potential." Taya feels Sandborne-Sensei's stare and avoids it as long as possible. Taya likes Sandborne-Sensei. She had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Every lecture from every teacher culminates in the same question. "Why do you suppose you can't, Taya?"

"I- I guess I'm not applying myself." She's learned what answers her teachers want and supplies them without thinking. She can hear Sandborne-Sensei's tunic rustle as she crosses her arms. Another exhale, perhaps to make her feel at ease.

"It's been too long since I assigned you an exercise. Maybe it will encourage you to apply yourself, for once." She sets the theory book down and crosses to the front of the room, waiting for Taya to follow her. She creaks open a wardrobe near the door and pokes her head inside. "Have we tried using a channel recently?"

"Not since last year, Sensei."

"All right. I'll have you try that again. I don't have time to assist you this evening, so I'll trust you can manage alone."

"Um, yes, but. . ." Taya shushes when Sandborne's attention returns to her. "A channel," she mumbles. "I don't have a channel."

"Doesn't your roomate have one?"

"No. She's, um, never needed one."

"Ah." Sandborne-Sensei leans between a shelf of infinite spellbooks and a row of spare tunics to a shelf filled with channels. Paperweights and dowsing gems shimmer in the closet's gloom like diamonds in a deserted mine shaft. She hesitates as she reaches for a totem, then changes her mind. She moves instead towards a false board in the wall and after setting it aside, removes a small laquered box. She holds it in her palm while her thoughts settle, then hands the box to Taya. "Here. We'll try something different."

Taya lifts the cover quickly while Sandborne-Sensei closes the closet. A necklace? Her fingers stroke the finely linked chain, careful not to brush against the amber pendant nestled in the center of the box. She'd expected another paperweight, maybe, or. . .

"You use it like any other channel. It shouldn't be difficult if you apply yourself." Taya starts out of her reverie and snaps the box shut. "But this is far more valuable than any channel you've been given. If you think I can trust you with it, I'll need it back first thing tommorrow morning, do you understand?"

"I should hope so." Her teacher turns and starts to place incense along the wall in designated notches. Taya catches a thin smile on her teacher's face. "If you lose or break it, you can expect to spend your remaining days as a mouse."

"Y- yes, Sensei."

"Good. Now I suggest you leave before my advanced students file in."

Taya blushes, nods, and slips through the open door.