The Mage Tower


When during a battle against a team of Krall's raiding bandits one of
the Court of Farallon's mages fell defending a town several months after
Ranma entered his eighth year, he decided, at his Lady's urging, to take
the opportunity to join the throng of young wizards eager to achieve a
position at court. He conceded to her desire, reasoning with himself
that by putting himself in a position to observe so many other wizards,
he would expand his own skill, and get closer to his goal of freeing his
Lady.

He had spent enough time concentrating on his martial arts. It was time
to give magic a clear focus, and improve in it as quickly as he could.
He had by this time trained several of the best students, Beorn among
them, to mastery of the first dan of his school, and he left them to
further instruct his troops.

Arkus had spent the intervening time busy with a project for his Lady.
He was quite annoyed on his return, to see them preparing for a journey.
That was as nothing compared to his fury, though, when he realized their
goal. He was not aware of the contest, and could only assume that the
boy was going to take classes at the Mage Towers. There was no way he
would be able to scry and ply his influence near there. It was far too
dangerous. He would be forced to ignore the boy until such time as he
finally left the Towers.

The Lady traveled with Ranma, and again they received an escort at the
border. This time, many of the men were ones who had trained under him,
and the looks he received were of respect and honor, instead of fear
and hatred.

They did not go now to the capitol city, but took a new route, to a city
that grew out from the banks of a large river, and swallowed a nearby
hill. On the brow of the hill stood a large wall, that encircled it.
Within the walls was built a mighty compound of stone, with rising
spires, and lowering halls that reached deep into the hill. 

They were offered accommodations in the noble's quarters, which the Lady
accepted, but Ranma declined. He chose instead to live in the barracks,
with the other potential magelings. 

As he saw the first of the mages, Ranma realized he could detect their
magical power, much the way he could see a martial artist's aura, though
they were not the same thing. He also realized that he could not see the
aura of the Lady Alana. Deciding she must be suppressing her aura, he
focused on doing the same.

A young lady, demurely dressed, led him with down-turned eyes down long
halls of stone, to an open courtyard, and across it. Within the
courtyard were numerous young men, both common and noble, practicing
small magics, trying to impress one another with their skill. 

He realized immediately that he was beyond all their skill, and worried
that when tested, they would immediately release the others, leaving him
with no-one to watch. But he held his silence, as they passed through
the young men, and a path parted before them, as if the young lady held
a power, hidden in shadow, that they could sense, though he could not.
She led him down a quick flight of steps, and into the barracks, a long
row of small rooms, and showed him to the one that would be his and one 
other boy's. He dropped his pack by the bed on the right, and turned to
see her leaving.

"Lady, wait a moment, I would ask you something," he requested. She
turned towards him, and raised her eyes to his chest. She was a second
year student, well beyond the strength of most of these young whelps,
and as a student of the Mage Tower, she need not respect the
distinctions of nobility and commoner. But being second year, she was
strong enough to sense power, and she could feel the unimaginable power
that rippled around the young man, though he was clearly suppressing
it. She did not realize that she was detecting his ki aura as well as
his aura of magic, leading her to an inflated view of his power. Though
she had not been told who he was, she had recognized the Lady from
descriptions they were given in history classes. She was the Lady
Alana, and by extension, given the stories of the defeat of Lord Roga,
this boy must be the Lord Fey. 

She feared what he would ask of her. As a Lord, he was beyond the
strictures of nobility, and though he was not in his own land, he was
recognized as a Lord here as well, by order of the King. He could
give her nigh any order, and she would have to obey him... even... even
if he ordered her to share his bed. She almost hoped he would. He was
handsome, and strong, and powerful. Though it would not be a bad life,
being the consort to such a one, she dreaded being his plaything, to be
cast aside when no longer wanted. So she had sought to avoid catching
his notice... and failed.

Ranma simply hoped that from this young lady he might receive an
answer to the question that had perturbed him since his very
first lesson in magic. "Lady," he asked, "how is it that you hide your
power?"

She stared down in confusion, not yet daring to meet his eyes, nor look
upon his face. "Hide my power? I don't understand. Do you mean... you
cannot see it?" When he nodded, she was even more confused. "But, if you
cannot see it, then how did you know it was there?" In her confusion,
she finally raised her head to look at his face, and looking down at
him, his eyes captured her, held her in their crystal blue depths. 

"I could see that the others, there in the courtyard, could sense it.
They moved out of your way, without you saying or doing anything, yet
you were not even looking at them." He wore a puzzled frown, she saw.
"Yet I feel no power in you. How are you hiding it from me?"

"But, but I'm not," she gasped, suddenly terrified. So much power, in
one so young. If he didn't believe her, who knew what he might do? She
hadn't realized, until she saw his face, that he was not merely short
for his age. He was truly young. Most of the men in the courtyard had
been thirteen to seventeen, with a few twelve year old prodigies. But
even the immense power this boy had could not disguise that he was no
more than eight, nine at the most. Such youth was generally accompanied
by a lack of emotional control, and bad reactions to being thwarted,
particularly in the children of power, those whose positions meant they
had never been denied anything they desired. 

"Then do you know why I cannot see your power?" he asked, trying to find
a different way of coming at the question, that would give him the
answer he sought. She shook her head mutely, trying desperately to
stifle her fear. She wanted to shake, to run and cry, to flee from the
terrible power standing quietly before her. She had a little brother,
seven and a half, and his temper tantrums were terrible. Picturing this
boy, with his unimaginable power, throwing a tantrum because she
couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear, left her feeling weak with
terror.

"Oh well," he sighed. "I am sorry to have kept you, Lady. Please forgive
me." She nodded, and backed away. When he made no move to stop her, she
turned and fled. Her master found her in her study, sobbing, huddled in
the corner. The strong woman, still beautiful in her middle age, her
youthful looks assisted by her spells, bent to gather her protege in her
arms. It had been her choice to have her student meet the young Lord of
Fey. She had not expected this result, and felt a sudden surge of anger,
that was as swiftly swallowed by her fear. 

"What did he do to you, my child?" She asked, rocking the girl in her
arms. She had cared for the girl for years, and looked on her as a
daughter, but even to defend her, there was little she could do to one
such as the Lord Fey.

"Nothing," the girl gasped out between sobs. "It's not him, its me. I
looked in his eyes, Liliana, and he's so young, but he's far stronger
than anyone I've ever met, and he's a Lord, and he could have ordered me
to do anything, and I would have to obey, and I was so scared,
because I couldn't answer his questions, and I kept picturing him
throwing a tantrum like my little brother, and, and..."

"Shhh... its alright. And what did he do?"

"Nothing... nothing... he just asked me how I hid my power from him. And
I didn't know what he meant, and I was afraid he would be angry, because
I was hiding something from him, but I didn't know what I was doing, or
how to stop, and I was so scared... but he just apologized. He said he
was sorry. I ran away. He's got so much power, Liliana. How can anyone
so young be that strong?"

"How did you know he was a Lord, Ariana? I know no-one told you." That
had been quite deliberate on her part. She had not wanted a potential
friendship spoiled from the start by issues of rank.

"I recognized the Lady from the history classes. She's the Lady Alana,
the dragon that the old Lord Fey bound. And he fits the description of
the new Lord, the one that defeated Lord Roga."

"You didn't call him Lord, did you?," Liliana asked sharply. 

"No, I didn't. I got the feeling he didn't want it to be known. He was
offered a place with the noble-born, with his Lady, but he refused it.
Why else would he want to sleep in the barracks? He is pretending to be
one of them. I don't know how he will explain his age, though. Surely
they will try to bully him. He's the youngest there, by far. I hope he
doesn't hurt them too badly." Held in the arms of one she had come to
look on as a mother, Ariana had finally begun to calm down, to recognize
that though her fear was well-founded, it had not come to pass, and the
boy she had feared had in fact shown considerable emotional control.

Liliana smiled at the child in her arms. "I see your wits have not been
addled by your fear. That was well thought out, child. Now calm 
yourself. You need not fear this boy. I have spoken to the Lady Alana.
He may be young, but he has an iron will. He will not lose control."

---

Ranma sighed as the girl ran off. Probably he had made her late for
something. He hoped she wouldn't get in trouble because of him. He
realized that he didn't even know her name. 

He unpacked quickly, putting clothes in the small dresser, and a pillow
and blankets on the bed. He had done his best to make sure that he had
everything a normal youth would have. He certainly didn't want to flout
his differences. He wanted to fit in, to get to know them, so that they
would feel comfortable showing him what they could do.

When he had the room looking the way he wanted it, he turned to leave.
Just at that moment, a boy stepped into the doorway. He looked about
eleven or twelve, and was wearing dusty travel clothes, and carrying a
bag that looked like it had seen better days. When he saw Ranma, he
smiled. So, he wasn't going to be the youngest one here. That was a
relief... even if this kid did look like a noble. "Hi, my name's Arran.
What's yours?"

"Ranma. The left bed is yours." Ranma sat on his bed. He would wait, and
get to know this boy, before going to the courtyard. Best to see if he
could pass for normal now, with just one, rather than risking it with
everyone right off the bat. He had noticed one difference already. Ranma
had had a guide, this kid hadn't. Or if he had, his guide had left
before he opened the door. He tucked his legs up lotus style, and
reached out with his ki, to observe the magic going on in the courtyard,
while he waited for his roommate to get settled in. He also released
the Soul of Ice, knowing that a lack of emotional response would seem
strange to children his age. He looked up when the boy plopped down on
his bed, sighing. 

"So, Ranma, I guess you're a prodigy like me, huh?" He asked, lying
back, looking up at the ceiling. 

"A prodigy," Ranma asked curiously. "What's that?"

Arran sat up, looking over at Ranma. "You don't even... oh, man. Well,
uhm... I guess a prodigy is somebody that's kinda naturally good at what
they do. You know, learns it easier than normal people?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I'd be one of those, then." Ranma replied.

"So, uh, what kind of magic do you do?" Arran asked. "I'm an
illusionist."

"An illusionist? What's that?" Ranma asked. It sounded interesting.

"You don't even know the schools? I would have thought that would be
the first thing they taught. It is everywhere I've heard of. What kind
of magic do you do?"

"Uhm... I dunno. Martial, I guess."

"Martial? That's not a school. What do you mean?" Arran was puzzled now.
Why was this boy here? He didn't seem to know _anything_. 

"Uhm, well. You know... attacks and stuff," Ranma replied, diffidently.
He was feeling a bit annoyed. This boy made it sound like he didn't know
anything, when Ranma was fairly confident by now that he could duplicate
most of the magic going on in the courtyard.

Arran goggled at him, slack-jawed. Finally he regained control of his
mouth. "Wow! Most schools don't start teaching attacks until like the
third or fourth year. Who taught you?"

Ranma was definitely feeling confused now. "Uhm... well, uh. Attacks
were the first thing I was taught... or well, no, I guess she was trying
to teach me defense, really. But I can do all the attacks she showed
me."

"Who? Who taught you? Who's she?"

Ranma sighed. He'd really put his foot in his mouth now. He was
disappointed with himself. It had been a really long time since he had
let his mouth trip him up. After learning from Tenchi, he had found that
he had to really stop and think to talk like that, and sometimes he
realized that he really just shouldn't say it at all. But this kid was
talking a lot like Ranma had before Tenchi, and Ranma had followed him,
lapsed into easy speech patterns, trying to be comfortable, and
friendly, and wham, foot in mouth time again.

He couldn't just suddenly start talking like Tenchi again. Arann would
think he had been offended, or something. But he really needed to think
before speaking. I can't lie to him, I can't say I don't know her name.
If I tell him I'd rather not say, that'll just make him more curious,
and others are bound to ask the same questions. I need a good answer.
Aahh. I could say that she's a sorceress who found me, and I just call
her the Lady. Yeah, that might work. "Uhm. I just call her the Lady. She
found me, and took me in." Good, Arran was nodding. I guess maybe that's
not unheard of.

"Are you here to live and train, or are you here for the competition?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, uhm... the competition, I think." That's weird, Arran
thought. He sounds so uncertain. Almost like he hadn't realized
that it was a competition... You'd think he hadn't heard a hundred
stories about the competitions... but who around here hasn't?

"Where are you from, Ranma?"

"Uh...," Ranma caught himself about to say Japan, "Um... Fey. I come
from Fey," he replied, hoping that would be enough. He didn't know the
names of any towns in Fey. He'd have to learn more about his nation when
he returned. 

"Oh, a slave, huh. I guess you're lucky the old Lord died. I heard he
was real jealous about magic users."

"A... A slave?" Ranma asked. Where had that come from, he wondered.

Arran looked at him, shaking his head from side to side. "Boy, she
didn't teach you much except magic huh?" he said, sounding sympathetic.
"Everybody knows that all the people in Fey are slaves. Its not like
Farallon, where most people are freedmen, and own their land. That's why
Fey isn't a King, he's a Lord. He doesn't rule Fey, and the people in
it. He owns them."

Ranma sat numbly. He was in shock. Why had Alana never told him this? He
didn't want slaves. He didn't want to own people. "Uhm, yeah," he said,
"she never, uh, told me any of that." She sure hadn't, and he meant to
find out why!

He sat in silence for a minute, wondering why Arran was looking at him
so strangely. "So, uh, Arran. You uh, wanna practice or something? Like
those guys in the courtyard?"

Arran face contorted even more. "Practice? Ranma, those guys aren't
practicing. They're competing. Haven't you ever seen a magic duel
before?"

"Uh...," Ranma thought desperately. He had fought Lord Ereth's magic
upon the stone... but did that count? Oh well, he couldn't admit to
having seen that without admitting who he was, so, "Uhm... no?"

"Oh, geez. You're hopeless. Look, the idea is one guy does something,
and keeps casting it, and tries to keep the other guy from dispelling
it. Then you switch sides. Usually you got a third person there, to
judge. And the winner is usually the guy who manages to keep from being
dispelled. If you can't prevent yours from being dispelled, and the
other guy does, then he wins. If neither of you can, then the guy with
the more complex spell wins... although it really should be a tie. So
now that you now, you wanna try it? I'll start, you try to dispell it."

When Ranma nodded, Arran concentrated, muttering, and moving his hands
in arcane gestures, and the form of a songbird appeared between them.
"Now try to dispell it," he said, "And I'll try to stop you."

Ranma had watched the threads come together, and seen their form, and he
gave a light tap with his ki, and the threads fell apart. Arran gasped.
"How... but... but you didn't cast anything! You didn't do anything!" He
looked nonplussed, but quickly firmed his face, and began casting again.
He wasn't going to be beaten so easily by the youngest guy there. He
just wasn't. He was supposed to be a prodigy, not this darned kid. He
summoned another bird, an eagle this time, and put twice the time and
effort into it.

Ranma had realized that he had erred, and while Arran cast, he watched
the courtyard, and saw the other boys were dispelling by weaving their
own threads to attempt to pull apart the other boy's creation. It looked
a lot harder than just tapping the right spot, but Ranma did want to fit
in.

So this time, he mumbled and waggled his hands for effect, while he drew
up the threads, wrapped them about Arran's creation, and pulled. It fell
apart almost as easily. Arran gasped again, and Ranma cursed inwardly.
He had done just what the other boys did. Why had it worked so damned
easily?

Arran just gritted his teeth, and tried harder. He worked three times as
long, and formed a wild stag between them. Ranma lifted a single thread
this time, and used it to tug on one of Arran's. Arran gasped, and Ranma
was shocked at the look of sudden strain on his face, as he broke into a
sweat. Ranma tugged again, and the spell fell apart. "My God, you're
strong," Arran gasped. I can't do another one, he thought to himself. 
"Ok, now you try," he said. 

Ranma nodded, and gathered the threads. He duplicated Arran's eagle, and
watched intently as Arran gathered numerous threads to tear at it. He
noticed, now that he was observing only a single attempt, instead of
many at once, that the action was far more indiscriminate. It was more
like Arran was throwing the threads at it. He realized then, that Arran
couldn't really see the threads, and so couldn't control them, the way
Ranma could. Nonetheless, it worked, and his image fell apart. He
realized that he wasn't sure what Arran had been doing to hold it
together. Certainly, he had felt nothing when Arran tore his apart. 

Ranma formed another, and this time, having watched how Arran's threads
had pulled against his, he wound them together in such a way that each
thread would resist pressure against the next, and the fall away spot
was buried in the middle. The stag appeared between them. Arran tried,
but his threads fell upon Ranma's and then fell away, achieving nothing. 

"What?," he gasped, nonplussed by the complete lack of any response from
Ranma. Sure the guy might be strong, but he ought to feel the strain, at
least. Arran concentrated harder, and Ranma saw wave after wave of
threads crash invisibly upon the little stag, and now the internal
twistings and resistance of the threads made the stag seem almost alive.
Ranma and Arran stared at it as it snorted, and reared, and lashed out
with sharp hooves, before standing trembling, once Arran had ceased his
attack. "My God," he said again, reaching out his hand towards it. "You
made it real," he breathed. His hand touched the stag's back, and he
felt the fur, before it snorted, and dashed away through the air, to
hide behind Ranma's head.

Ranma felt frustration twisting in his guts as he looked at the awed
expression on Arran's face. He had tried so hard to be like them, to fit
in, and failed, completely. Arran was surprised at the suddenly
crestfallen look that fell on Ranma's face, and the look of utter
frustration that followed it.

"You didn't even mean to, did you?" Arran asked. Ranma shook his head,
irritably. 

"Look, Arran. I'm sorry. I just don't know how to do all this stuff
right. I don't want people thinking I'm different, and treating me
different. I just wanted to be like all the rest of them." He gestured
out the door, in the direction of the courtyard.

"Hey, I won't tell anybody. But you're gonna have to do something about
that, or it'll be darned obvious." Arran pointed at the deer, which was
snuffling about in the air, looking for grass. "Its just too bad it
wasn't a bird, or a fire lizard or something. Then you could just say it
was your familiar. Its unusual to have a familiar this early, but not as
much as having a deer running around your head."

Ranma looked up at him. "You mean it? You won't say anything?" When
Arran nodded, puzzled at Ranma's serious, dark expression, and the
budding hope in his eyes. "Hmmm. What's a fire lizard, Arran? I've never
heard of them."

"I'll show you one," replied Arran. He cast again, and Ranma studied the
little creature. It was like a little dragon, thin and long, but it had
a fatter midbody, more like a lizard, really, and two extra limbs...
long thin wings, like a bat's. 

Ranma looked at the stag. Already, he could see the threads fading,
falling back into the tapestry. But they were changed. The thing was
holding its form, even as reality reclaimed it. He realized with a
start, that Arran was right. Soon there would be almost no magic about
it, but it would still be there, still be real. Already it was almost
too late to touch the release, and undo the knot.

Ranma reached out, with real gentleness now, realizing that he had
made this thing, and he was responsible for it, and he reshaped it into
a lizard. He focused on even smaller details, making it not just the
appearance of a thing, but the reality. He made sure it would have
cohesion, resistance to dispelling magic, then thought back to his
time with the lion pride, and gave it a playfulness, like the cubs. He
considered the animals he had gutted and eaten with his father, and
the way bird's bones fit together, and he knitted a skeleton of light,
flexible something, not quite bone, but close. 

Arran watched in silent wonder, focusing his mage sight, as he saw his
roommate doing something extraordinary. Fire lizards weren't real. They
were a story, a myth, and Arran had been half-joking. 

Ranma wasn't joking. He was steadily crafting, creating, making them
real. It was almost frightening. He realized then that he had been
terribly foolish. He had been joking, but he had known how little Ranma
knew. Ranma had believed him, that if he made it a fire lizard, people
would believe it to be his familiar. But everyone, everyone except
Ranma, that is, knew they weren't real. It was too late, too late to
warn Ranma. He was already finishing it, adding the last touches... 

Ranma had noticed the magic fading in it, and decided that it wasn't
fair, to a creature born of magic, to lose it so easily. So he poured
his ki and magic into the creature's heart, and tied it there with magic
bonds, that it too might remain a thing of magic, even as it became
real. Like the real dragon he had met, he gave it a breath of flame,
and lines that would feed its claws and teeth with ki, that it might be
strong enough for its prey. 

Finally, he was done, just as he heard heavy feet pounding in the
corridor outside. He took the little fire dragon in his hands, and held
it to his body, warming it with his own heat. He heard a strangled cry
of alarm, and looking up, saw Arran backing away from a large man
standing in the door, red-faced. 

"What is the meaning of this?" the man roared. Ramna could see
innumerable faces trying to see around him. The boys from the courtyard.
"Who's been casting spells of creation here?" He glared at Arran,
assuming immediately that the older boy had to have done it. Even he was
far to young to have such power, and the other boy was younger still. He
was about to shout again, when the fire lizard, hitherto unnoticed by
him, let out a soft creel. He turned to stare, and saw the golden
creature cradled in the younger boy's arms.

"I guess I did, Master," replied Ranma. "It was an accident. Arran was
trying to show me how to compete with magic, like they were doing in the
courtyard." He pointed behind the Master, who whirled around. The boys
scattered. The Master turned back, sighed and pulled the door shut
behind him. He sat heavily on Arran's bed. 

"Its alright, boy," he said to Arran. "I won't bite." He turned back to
Ranma. "Let me see it," he commanded, holding out his hands. Ranma
reluctantly handed over the little lizard, who creeled again in hunger.
Ranma pulled a hunk of meat out of nowhere. 

"Here, I think he's hungry," Ranma said, holding out the meat. The
Master stared at him for a minute, then took the meat in his large hand,
and fed it to the little creature. The Master examined it with his
magesight, rubbing one thick calloused finger on the creature's head, 
behind the ears, and watching it push its head into his caress, and
feeling it purr against his hand, and looked up in disbelief. 

His voice was tinged with anger. "You expect me to believe you created
this, this creature, by accident? Preposterous."

"No, no, let me explain," Ranma replied quickly, to forstay the Master's
anger lest he harm the lizard. "It was a stag, or an image of one, that
I created in mimicry of Arran's, that I accidentally made real. I've
never done it before, I didn't even realize what I had done. Then Arran
said I needed to do something about it quick, and I realized that the
threads were falling back, but holding their shape. He said that it was
too bad that it hadn't been a bird or a fire lizard, so I could claim it
was my familiar. I made him show me what a fire lizard looked like, and
then I made it like one. "

"You expect me to believe that this is only the second real thing you've
ever created?" The Master raised his bushy eyebrows, his disbelief
obvious.

"Well, yes. I mean, I created the two crystal roses, but they weren't
real in the way it is. And its not the second, its the first. I didn't
unmake the stag, I just changed it. I modeled it after the lion cubs
and the dragon I met."

A sudden light of recognition lit the Master's eyes. "Aaaaahhh... Now I
understand. You are Ranma Fey, aren't you?" He asked, his voice softer
now.

"Yes, Master, I am." Ranma winced as he noticed Arran's stare. Arran was
just realizing the implicatios... why Ranma had been surprised when
Arran thought he was a slave... why he didn't want to say who had
trained him. This little boy was the Lord Fey, who had defeated the
champion of Arran's hometown, Lord Roga. Arran suddenly dropped off the
bed, to his knees, and placed his head on his hands, on the floor. Ranma
groaned. "Why'd you have to go and say that, Master? Arran," and he
reached down, and lifted the boy bodily to his feet, "didn't I just get
through saying I didn't want to be treated no different than anybody
else. What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Lord Fey," rumbled the Master. "I should have realized your
intentions. Arran," he said, and the boy looked up at him. "You will say
nothing of this to anyone." Arran nodded. "You will, of course, continue
to help the Lord Fey fit in with the other boys. Explain the competition
to him." 

He turned back to Ranma. "I had hoped to have a chance to talk to you,
before you came here, but I was held up." He settled back on the bed,
but reached out, the lizard cradled in a single large palm as he handed
it back to Ranma. Ranma took it in silence. "I hope you understand, Lord
Fey, that though we will permit you to enter the competition, and stay
here, none of this will have the slightest effect on the outcome of our
decisions."

"Yes, I know," Ranma replied softly, with just a hint of sadness, "I
realize that you can't have an outside Lord on your council. I'm not
here for that. I'm here to learn as much as I can from watching the
magic cast around here, so that I may in time learn enough to free the
Lady. No-one else can do it, but I, so it falls to me to find a way. I
appreciate your willingness to let me stay and observe."

"I am afraid you misunderstand me, Lord Fey," and laughter rumbled in
his belly, "The reason you will have no effect on the outcome is simply
that a place on our council is yours for the asking. You need win
nothing to get that."

"What?" Ranma looked up at him with wide eyes. "But why?"

"We heard what you did with Lord Ereth, Lord Fey, how you faced him and
his hounds. You freed them with an ease that no Archmage of Farallon
could ever achieve. If only in your powers of dispelling, you have
already earned your place on our council." Arran gasped. He had heard
stories of the terrible Lord Ereth, and his Hounds. 

"And now, you demonstrate that you have equal power in creation. I tell
you, Ranma, not one in a thousand mages has the power and skill to
create a truly living being, as you have done. A fascimile of one,
certainly, a simulacrum, a thing that seems real, easily. But to truly
create life? Twice over you have earned your place. If you will, then
after the competition is over, and you have seen all you want, you will
come and join our circle."

Ranma just gaped at him. Arran looked timidly at the Master. "Master,
why do you say 'truly create life'? How can you tell that this fire
lizard is more alive than that stag that he made?"

The Master laughed again. "Two reasons. First, the little creature seems
to be Lord Fey's familiar. How he managed that, I'm not sure, but the
link between them is there, clear as day. Second, its female, and its
pregnant. Anyone can create a thing. Lord Fey has created a new race!"
With that startling pronouncement, he stood and left.

Ranma looked down at the lizard he held. "Arran," he asked, looking up,
"What's a familiar, anyway?" Arran fell off the bed in shock.

---

While Ranma's creation of the fire lizard had pretty much blown his
pretense of being like every one else, he had also realized that with
the range of his additional senses, he didn't need to be very close to
anyone to observe their use of magic. 

So when he and Arran walked out to the courtyard, and he heard the
conversation just stop dead as everyone turned to look at him, he
ignored them. He just looked around, picked a spot that looked good, and
made a standing leap forty feet to settle on the edge of the roof over
the barracks, looking down on the courtyard. He sat there and watched
the boys, stroking his fire lizard. 

The few boys who had been planning on razzing the youngest boy for
getting in trouble with the Masters so soon after showing up, were
silenced by his leap. Most of them were using mage sight, a necessity in
their competitions, and there had been no hint of magic as he made that
leap. If he was that strong, they wanted nothing to do with teasing him.

Ranma watched for a minute to be sure that Arran wasn't being excluded,
but it looked like he didn't need to worry. Several groups invited him
over. Ranma realized they were probably pumping Arran for information
about him, but he wasn't worried.

Still stroking the lizard, Ranma extended his senses outward, until he
could see all the activity in the field. Focusing now on one pair, now
on another, Ranma began to notice subtler details about the boys'
activities. He recognized that some of the boys were achieving identical
effects with fewer threads and less power. Examining the differences
between them, Ranma slowly got a feel for what the important parts of
the spells were, and what was just extra. 

Eventually, he began to experiment himself, conjuring creations in the
air before him, to see how his capabilities compared with theirs. At
first, his creations were clumsy, little better than those of the people
he was watching. After several hours, as boys came and went, he had
discovered that he could accomplish the most complex things they were
doing in the field with a single thread, twisted about itself in a
complex fashion. He also realized that as with his ki, as he practiced,
he was steadily able to use less power to achieve a similar effect, by
being more precise about his placements and pressures. 

He also began to perceive the different schools of which Arran had
spoken. While all the dispellings bore similarities, one to the other,
he could perceive distinct classes of conjurations. Some were conjuring
images, like Arran had done. He assumed they were the illusionists.
Others were conjuring balls of fire or water, or summoning clouds of
insects, while still others needed a forth participant, upon whom they
cast some effect, while the other contestant attempted to dispell it.

--- 

When the competitions finally began, Ranma quickly rose in their ranks.
He was careful to always use magic to dispell their conjurations, rather
than his ki, to avoid charges of cheating. He only ever had to make one
creation per contest. They never succeeded at dispelling his creations.
He had gone to one of the Masters, who had carefully explained the
theory behind creating real things, so that even though he still used
the techniques of hiding the weak point in the center, and using
countervailing resistance in the threads, they did not become real.

He underwent some individual testing with several Masters. One of them
was able to determine that the lizard was in fact not Ranma's familiar.
The large Master had simply seen the connection that had been the result
of Ranma fueling the creature with his ki. Over time, the patterns of
the lizard's ki flow changed to suit it, and the connection disappeared.
The only thing that kept the little beggar with him, was the lion like
personality. She looked to Ranma as the pack head, the chief lion... her
mate.

He didn't face any real problems in the competition, until the second to
last round. There, he faced one of the three girls who had entered. They
were housed in a different portion of the complex, and he had not seen
any of them before. This girl was about fifteen, well-developed, and
quite pretty, with long black hair, a finely featured face, and flashing
green eyes.

When she crafted her creation, he could not see it with his ki. He could
see the delicate butterfly with his eyes, but to his ki-sight, it simply
wasn't there. When he tried an educated guess with a single thread, the
sudden look of pain on her face told him that he could destroy it. But
unlike the boys, who felt no pain when he used a thread to simply touch
the same spot he would touch with his ki, he would have to tear her
butterfly apart, and it would hurt her terribly as she struggled to hold
it together. He hurt inside already at the pain he had caused her. 

He wanted to concede, but the girl grew furious at him. The Masters
agreed with her. He had the power, they knew, and they could only assume
he was refusing to use it because she was a girl. She was right to be
angry at such unfair treatment. He tried to explain, but they didn't
understand that he could dispell the boy's creations without causing
them pain. All dispellings caused pain, they insisted. 

Growing grim, he nodded. If he could not see her magic, maybe at least
he could sever the connection. He concentrated, drawing up the
threads... and suddenly she was frozen, unmoving, not even breathing.
Her hair didn't respond to the wind... it was as if she had fallen out
of time, and its inexorable pull no longer reached her. The Masters were
quite disconcerted, but before they could react to save the girl, Ranma
had dispelled her butterfly with a massive dispelling, that actually
tore the air about the butterfly, becoming briefly visible, then gently
drawn her back. 

She had merely been confused, and hurt at being treated differently just
because she was a girl. Magic was supposed to be one field where that
didn't matter, where a woman could be as powerful as a man, or even
stronger. She hadn't even realized what he had done. To her, it was
the same as with the boys... he concentrated, and her butterfly was
gone. To her, it proved his lie, that he had had no reason to treat
her differently. But the Masters knew otherwise, and were astounded and 
afraid.  They withdrew Ranma from the contest, fearing the consequences
if they pushed him too far a second time.

They did let him enter the second competition. This one again tested the
mage's ability to perceive and counteract the works of others. It was a
long series of archways, doors, and openings, each bound by a magic
user. They were successively harder... the first few were locked by
cantrips cast by students, then real spells by first year students, on
up to masters as you got deeper. The final door was locked by a combined
spell cast by the top mage and the top magess of the council. No-one was
expected to go all the way. You were judged, rather, on how far you got.

Ranma was the last to go, and all the Masters gathered to watch. This
would be a sight, as Ranma was already justly famed for dispelling the
magic that bound Lord Ereth's hounds.

In actual fact, it was a bit of a disappointing spectacle. Most of the
other mage's attempts had been quite showy, as they tried to break
through with sheer force of magic. 

Ranma, in contrast, simply walked, and as he approached each door, each 
obstacle, it swung wide, or rolled upwards, or otherwise removed itself
from his path. Not until the third to last door did he slow. This was
one enchanted by a magess named Marla, and he simply stopped, and looked
at it. He tried the door handle, and it refused to open. There was open
muttering among the Masters, who were finally beginning to realize that
there was in fact something different about feminine magic to this
young man. There was no other reason for this door to be any different,
and in this case, it was quite impossible for it to be any matter of
prejudice with the boy. After all, he did not know who had cast the
spells, and had no way of knowing that he was facing a female's work...
unless there truly was a difference to him.

He punched the door, and the ringing of the iron resounded in the hall,
drowning out Marla's gasp. She was not defending her spell, as the
young girl had been, but she kept a light touch on it, wanting to see
how he worked. She had felt his blow, a purely physical thing, but it
had reverbrated through her magical construct.

Now he looked at the door, and looked around him. Then he centered
himself, and pushed at the door. This was a quieter thing, and several
of the Masters heard Marla's gasp, and saw her turn pale. The door did
not open... no, rather, the entire construct, the entire line of doors,
a construct of heavy iron and stone, slid several feet down the hall.
Most of the Master's mouths fell open. Ranma looked slightly annoyed
now.

He brightened, seeming to come to some realization. A sudden blue light
flared about his hand, as he plunged it through the door. Marla fell to
the floor as if shot. Several Masters rushed to her side, the rest
watched in awe, as Ranma forced his other hand in beside the first,
gripped the iron, and tore the door in half like a sheet of paper. There
was a sharp crack, as Marla's spell failed, and she fainted.

They revived her in time to watch as he walked curiously through the
second to last door, as if wondering why it wasn't harder than the
previous one. He came to the last door, then, bound with cords he could
see. Something felt familiar about it... like when he had looked and
seen the chains that bound his Lady... there was something else there,
something he couldn't see. Again he tried to touch the right spots, but
the strands failed to separate. There was something else there,
something holding them together. 

He tried again to force his hand in, but the dual bindings resisted his
ki claws. Gathering himself, and finding his center again, he placed
his hands on the door. Centering himself to the floor, the portion of
the construct beneath him, so that he was applying force to this piece
of the construct, instead of the construct as a whole, he began to push. 

Liliana and Mardo both grimaced at the strain, then gasped, as Ranma
suddenly put the force of the Tai Chi Chuan behind himself. It was still
not enough. He summoned the Neko-ken, and poured ki into his limbs. The
Masters stared in awe, as he glowed a brilliant blue, in the form of a
great cat. He strained harder, and sweat appeared on Liliana and Mardo's
faces. The Masters were looking worried now. This was unheard of, to
break so strong a spell with mere physical force, but they could see on
Liliana and Mardo's faces that the spell was feeling great strain. They
were watching with magic sight, so knew that in spite of the strange
aura and sheer power, he had not yet employed any magic.

Ranma reached deeper yet, focusing on how he had extended the Neko-ken,
and reached beyond that, even deeper, and drew up strands of magic into
himself, into the pool of ki that fed the Neko-ken. That caused a truly
interesting result... the ki and his body merged, as he swelled into a
much larger form, grew hair and powerful claws, and teeth lengthened in
his mouth. In moments, he looked like a six-foot tall tiger taken human
form, and he pushed with his greatly enhanced strength, ki-filled limbs,
and the power of the Tai Chi Chuan, and the doors burst asunder. Liliana
and Mardo collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

Ranma turned, and roared his triumph, soaring with the rush of the
Neko-ken, and something greater, and his roar shook the city. Then he
noticed his hands... er, paws, and his rather greater height. 
Thankfully, he had been wearing clothes that merely looked normal, but
were actually that same garment that had attached itself to him upon
Lord Fey's death, and they had grown with him. Nevertheless, several of
the female mages grew faint at the sight of him, huge and muscular, and
well, sexy as hell.

Ranma stared down at himself, confused. Nothing like this had ever
happened to him before, and he hadn't the foggiest clue how to get back,
until he finally noticed the threads of magic trapped in his ki. He
brushed them casually aside, and suddenly fell back to his previous
height. He grinned. That had been pretty cool, really, once he knew he
could get rid of it.

His smile faded, as he walked slowly back towards the entrance. That
last door had been so like his Lady's chains. He had not been able to
free them. He had destroyed the chains, assuredly, but only by   
destroying the door as well. Not until he could face such a door, and
open it without harming it, would he be able to free his Lady. What were 
these bonds, that he could not see, these threads that escaped his 
vision?

Liliana and Mardo revived shortly thereafter, and stared at the scene.
Casting that door had been a personal yearly exercise for them. They
were of the mutual opinion that every magic user should attempt at least
once a year to surpass themselves, to cast something more powerful than
they had cast the year before. After all, if you were capable of it,
then it at least showed that you were steadily getting stronger, whether
it actually assisted in that increase of strength or not.

This casting of the door was their personal best effort, each year.
Every time this contest came around (the contest occurred yearly to
measure the progress of the students, irrespective of whether there were
openings on the council or not) they tried to surpass each other in
binding the door. Every year, they had to devote considerable effort to
disbanding the bonds. They would only do so, of course, after any Master
who was interested had a go at it. At least one a year did, often
several. It had never been broken though. The bonds had never been
released, except by the two of them, working in tandem.

This boy, this mere child, had not only destroyed the doors, and burst
asunder a spell that combined the ultimate power of two of the top mages
on the council, he had not used any magic directed at the spell itself.
The other watching Masters had been clear on that point. He had only
used magic to increase his own strength. He had broken their most
powerful spell, with directed physical energy, nothing more. 

---

Ariana was assisting the other second year students in cleaning out the
extra barracks, that had held the contestants during their stay, when
she stopped outside one of the doors. Had she just heard a sob? She
pushed lightly on the door, and it swung quietly inward. She stifled a
gasp, as she realized what room this was, and who that was, lying on the
bed. She had heard from Liliana what he had done. He should be out
celebrating somewhere, triumphant, like the roar she had heard. Liliana
had said that was him.

Yet here he lay, facedown on his bed, crying into his pillow. She
entered the room quietly, noticing that the other boy's things were
gone, and closed the door behind her. Muttering below her breath, she
cast a warning and holding spell on the door, then turned to look at the
boy. 

His power was no less than it had been, so he hadn't burnt himself out,
as she had heard one could do by trying to use too much power. She sat
tentatively on the side of the bed, and lay one hand lightly on his
shoulder. She felt his sobs cease instantly. He rubbed his face from
side to side on the pillow, then pulled himself up, folding his legs up
lotus style, to sit, looking at her, dry eyes a deep blue in his tear
stained face. She had been about to try to comfort him, to ask him why
he was crying, when she had felt him stiffen. She had drawn her hand
back, and watched as he sat up to face her. Her fear came back to her.
Iron will, Liliana had said, and he was showing it now. His pain was
gone, vanished behind an emotionless mask.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, looking at his hard eyes. "I didn't mean to
disturb you, I just... I heard you, and I thought..."

"It's alright, Lady. It's nothing," he said in a quiet voice, as his
eyes softened. "You know, Lady, you left so quickly last time... I never
learned your name."

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'm Ariana. I'm a second year student here." She tried
to smile at him.

"A pretty name," he replied. "I thank you for your concern."

"Please... won't you let me help? Tell me what's wrong... please," she
pleaded him. It frightened her, this mask. If he was hiding such pain,
what else might he be hiding... and what would happen to them all when
he could hide no more? She turned to face him, pulling her legs up
beneath her. "I want to help."

He sighed. "There is nothing you can do, Ariana. I already asked you,
you could not answer me."

"What?" Ariana was confused. What had he spoken to her about... Ah,
yes... but how could her hiding her aura be causing him such pain. "I
don't understand... you can't see my aura, you said that... but why
should that make you cry? It didn't stop you from opening the last door.
No-one's EVER done that before!"

"Yes," he said with bitterness, "But I had to destroy the door to do
it." Finally, the mask had dropped, and she could see the pain in his
eyes. She wanted to reach out to him, but held back, out of fear. She
didn't want that mask to reappear.

"I don't understand. You've done something no else has ever done. How
can that make you so sad?"

Tears started trickling down his cheeks again, and she could no longer
resist. He looked just like her little brother, when he was hurt, and
she reached out, and pulled him, unresisting, into her lap and held him
while he spoke, not seeming to see or notice her, his voice low and
quiet, and unaffected by his tears.

"I did what no one else has ever done... but I am the only one who can
possibly do what I must do. I have to free her, but I can only see half
her chains. It was the same with the door... I could only see half the
chains. If I could have seen them all, it would have opened for me as
easily as all the other doors did. But I could only see half, and I
could not undo a single knot. I broke the chains, but only by destroying
the door. I cannot do the same with her. I cannot allow harm to come to
her... but I must destroy her chains. Yet I cannot see them." Ariana was
crying now, not really understanding who he was speaking of, but feeling
his pain at his unability to free her, whoever she was, feeling herself
resonate with the deep pain that laced his voice.

"What do you mean, when you say you can see chains? What do they look
like?"

"After I learned the Shining Darkness, I began to see threads in magic
things. Its like there is a background to everything, of these threads,
and magic is when these threads are drawn up to form something."

"Weird. That sounds kinda like the tapestry theory of magic... but
that's just a theory, an idea. Nobody's been able to prove it."

"Really? Cool, I didn't know that."

"You weren't taught any magical theory?"

"Uhmm... not really. She just kinda pounded me with magic attacks until
I started being able to feel their weak points, and break them. After a
while, I was able to feel more points, and then to even feel where the
magic was coming from. Then I duplicated one of her attacks, by the
feel. After Master Kagano blinded me and taught me the..."

"You're blind?" she interrupted, shocked. "He blinded you, and then
taught you? That's awful!"

"No, no, its not like that. I'm not blind anymore. It was temporary, to
help me develop my sixth and seventh senses. Once I had mastered the
Shining Darkness, I was able to actually see the threads. That's why I
was able to do so well in the competitions. I can see the threads, and
see the weak point, and I just have to tap it with a thread of magic,
and the construct falls apart. Until I fought that girl. I don't know
her name. She got really mad at me for some reason. I couldn't see her
magic at all. I destroyed it finally, with sheer blind force."

"That's amazing! You really see the threads?"

"Yeah. That's how I created her." Ranma pointed to the head of his bed,
and for the first time, Ariana saw the golden fire lizard, sleeping on
the far side of his pillow.

"You... you created her? My word..." Ariana was in awe. The little
creature was absolutely beautiful, and the slow rise and fall of her
chest made it clear that she was alive.

"Yeah... it was kind of an accident..." Ariana gulped and looked at him
wide-eyed. He had created that beautiful creature... by accident?!?
Whoa... too deep, change the subject.

"Uhm... Ranma, why are you still here? Everyone else who came to the
test has either returned to their homes, or been given rooms in the
student quarters. You must have passed the tests, given what you did on
the second challenge. Surely they're going to let you in?" Ariana hoped
he wouldn't say they were going to refuse him a place because he was the
Lord Fey. She thought her teachers were above such pettiness.

"Oh... well, no, not really. We're just going to be here another week.
Apparently they've got to wait for Master Ikoju to get back before they
can in... de... deduct me?"

"Induct you?" Ariana gasped. He couldn't mean what she thought he
meant... could he? But then again, if he could create that fire lizard
by accident, maybe he did belong on the council.

"Yeah, that. Master Mardo told me before the competitions began, when I
made her," he pointed again at the sleeping lizard, who shifted
slightly, wings rustling. "that I could have a place on the Council if I
wanted it." 

She gaped at him, though he couldn't see it. He still didn't seem to
notice, or at least to have reacted, to the fact that he was sitting in
her lap. She didn't realize that that was because he was in fact used to
it. Whenever he got emotional, or tried to retreat from her, the Lady
Alana would pull him onto her lap and cradle him, as if to remind him of
the first time she had done that, to remind him that he had already
opened up before her, poured out his fears to her. It wasn't that he
didn't realize he was sitting on her lap. It just hadn't really dawned
on him that this wasn't Alana he was talking to. Oh, he realized it
consciously, but subconsciously, it was all so like his conversations
with Alana that his defensive reactions never kicked in.

In this position, facing away from the person he was speaking to,
cradled and held by them, he could both feel assured of their love and
yet, since he couldn't see them, he could pretend to himself that he was
alone, and so it was okay to be open. He was still trying to bury his
pain and fear behind the wall of ice, but he was not yet strong enough
to hold it in. He could not bear to see the pain in Alana's eyes,
though, so he spoke of it, only while sitting on her lap, facing away,
where he could not see her.

"Mardo and Liliana spent some time explaining to me what the duties are,
that would go along with the position. They didn't seem too bad, and it
would give me a chance to observe some really powerful casting. I think
I'll come back next year, before the competition, to watch them cast the
door, and then I'll try to open it again. Maybe if I can manage to open
that door without breaking it, I'll be able to free the Lady. Someday. I
swear it."

"I believe you," she said intensely. He realized suddenly, where he was,
and who he was with. This wasn't Alana. Instantly he was out of her lap,
standing before her, the mask again on his face, though his eyes were
downcast. His face was an emotionless mask... but his body posture spoke
to her of... shame?

"I'm sorry, Ariana. I didn't realize... I didn't mean to burden you with
that." As he said the last, in a firm tone full of sincere contrition,
he raised his eyes to her face. For the first time, he realized she was
crying, and the mask seemed to break, and fall from his face as he
dropped to his knees before her. "Oh, please, Ariana, don't cry. I'm
sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please don't cry."

She smiled at him through her tears. "Don't worry, Ranma. Its alright.
Sometimes it feels good to cry. I always cry when I read a romantic
story. You obviously love her very much. Who is she?"

He looked up at her. "The Lady Alana," he said absently, puzzling over
her words. Sometimes it feels good to cry? She wanted to cry? 

"Oh..." she breathed out slowly. Wow. That was even more romantic... the
story of her and Lord Fey was the most tragic love story Ariana had ever
heard... and he was trying to free her? "But I thought you freed her
when you killed the Lord Fey?" Just like a knight in a story, freeing
the beautiful princess. But the stories never had the seven-year old
knight freeing a lady several hundred years his senior.

"No. The bonds that trapped her with him are still there. They bind her
to me now, and so I must free her."

"Oh... that's wonderfully romantic...," she sighed. Maybe one day,
someone would come and try to free her... No, she was going to be a
magess, she didn't need someone to save her. It would be sweet,
though...

Ranma looked at her curiously. At least she had stopped crying. She
thought it was romantic, that the Lady Alana was trapped loving a kid,
when she should be free to roam the skies? Weird, definitely weird. 

"You should consider staying here. You said she hasn't taught you any
theory. Maybe if you learned more of the theory, you might come up with
a way to free her?"

"Oh... uhm. I never thought of that. I'm not really good at studying,
and school, and stuff. I'll ask the Lady." He jumped up. "Thanks,
Ariana," he said, smiling at her, and then with a whoosh, he was gone...
through the door, which burst asunder, and cast sparks about. Oh well...
a simple locking and warning spell couldn't be expected to stand up to
the boy who could take out the most powerful holding spell ever devised.
She wondered why he hadn't dispelled it, then realized he must not have
been able to see it. 

It was then she finally recognized the connection. He hadn't been able
to see that one girl's spell, nor Marla's, nor half of Liliana and
Mardo's, and he hadn't noticed her spell on the door, and couldn't see
her magic aura. She was stunned at how obvious it was. He was blind to
the female principle. If the theory of the tapestry was right, then
basically he could see only the woof, but not the deeper warp threads. 

She sat for a time, pondering the implications of that, only to look up
startled, when she felt a sharp pricking on her thigh. She looked down
to see the fire lizard staring up at her, one tiny claw resting on her
thigh. It creeled at her. "Oh, hello... are you hungry? Or do you just
miss Ranma?" She sat stiff as it proceeded to crawl up her dress, to lie
on her shoulder, and throttle her neck with its tail. When its tail
wrapped about her, she felt a sudden pang of hunger. "Alright, I'll find
you some food," she said.

Ranma raced down the halls. He had not seen the Lady since the
competitions had begun, and he was eager to speak with her. 

In the end, Ranma spent nearly six months in the Mage Towers, learning
theory, while at his behest, Alana worked on a plan to free his people
from slavery without causing hardship or a revolt. While there, he
learned most of the theory of magic. He amazed the teachers by the
speed of his learning, and also by his remarkable ability to cast magic
from even diametrically opposed schools with ease. It wasn't all
magic, though. Since mages inevitably have to deal with nobility, and
since they often come from humble beginnings, the mage school had
classes for subjects like diplomacy, etiquette, and courtly protocols,
that Alana made Ranma take. When he left, the fire lizard stayed behind.
He left her in the care of Liliana and Ariana. He had too many burdens
to care for a new race, and they were delighted at the opportunity. The
secondary reason, of course, was that she had lain her eggs in her nest,
and it was thought unwise to move them.

---

When news of the Lord Fey's new position as a Mage of the Mage Towers
reached Krall, the blow had been softened by a steady diet of failure.
Krall faced the fact that he would simply not be able to eliminate the
boy alone. If he wanted to take Fey Castle, he would have to use more
traditional means, and that would be most easily accomplished if he had
a proper army. 

This was an especially harsh decision to have to make, in light of the
beating his forces had taken during the purge, which at this point, was
still ongoing, though it had slowed significantly. Krall was beginning
to question his decision to hand that operation over to Friss, but no
longer had the leverage to contest it.

No, he would have to begin a slow process of rebuilding. Well, hopefully
he would be able to position himself to take one of these damn
countries, then he would be able to seed their army with his own forces,
and commence with some serious training. However he accomplished it, he
would avenge his loss... perhaps at the right time, an alliance with the
Lord Ereth would provide sufficient force.

Or even more interesting, perhaps he could convince the Lord Ereth to
move against the damned dragon that had taken the boy and the Lady Alana
past the forces arrayed against him. If the boy went to the dragon's
defense, it would leave his own land undefended.

No matter, it would be five years at the least, more likely six to nine,
before he would be in a position to execute either plan.