Kazia wriggled and fidgeted as she waited for the Testers to complete their work. The Testers ignored her movements, used to the five-year-olds that were fully incapable of holding still, even as they underwent the Test. There was no reason for Kazia to be different from any of the other young children being Tested, and Kazia was not. She was just a little girl, just departed from babyhood, and holding still was not something in which she had any special skill. She had endured waiting in line, impatiently, with her mother, who feverishly hoped that her only child would be chosen. Like any other five-year-old, Kazia wasn’t capable of comprehending why her mother might not want her.

The Testers had come, as they did each year without fail. The people from the surrounding towns brought their young ones, taking them to be Tested. When a child Tested positive, the Testers recorded him or her down in their great, brown, leather-bound book. The family of the child was given a small monetary reward to compensate for the temporary, although sometimes permanent loss of their child. For most people, this system was enough. The Testers, after collecting the children, had them sent to a school where they would study and learn and study more, for the next dozen years or so of their life. Upon their release, they were told if their parents wished to see them, if their family still lived at all, and any other information that they felt should be imparted to their one-time charge. Many of the children chose to return to their families, to show them what they had become, to reacquaint themselves with the people they didn’t really know, to try and make up the time and experiences they had lost.

The Testers both examined the results they came across, exchanging grave expressions. Kazia’s mother, eagerly awaiting the results, felt her heart skip a beat. Kazia would be taken from her, and she would get a small fee for her ‘loss.’ No longer would she need to worry about the thankless creature that clung to her and wanted her and, worst of all, needed her. She hadn’t wanted the child, but had been given no choice in the matter, and had done the best she could to raise the impossible little creature.

“We will need to take this child into our care,” the elder Tester informed Kazia’s mother.

“Good,” she replied shortly.

The Tester merely raised his eyebrows, glancing down at, and quickly turning from, the surprise and injury on the young child’s face. “I will need the child’s name, the one you desire her to have, if you no longer wish to maintain relations with her.”

“I do not,” the woman replied, “She is called Kazia. That is all.”

“She must have a last name, and it is not for us to choose. Whether it is your will or not, you must choose something for her,” the Tester informed her sternly. It wasn’t uncommon for people to not want their children, few were so cruel as to say it so bluntly before the child, and fewer families still even refused to give them a name.

The woman studied Kazia’s reddening eyes, the tangled dark hair that she had neglected to comb out, and the little clenched fists. The woman looked back to the Tester, then to the young girl once more that so nearly resembled her father, a man from Kazia’s mother’s previous profession that Kazia had unwittingly cut short. Kazia would never know. Everyone believed that Kazia was the result of a rape, that Kazia’s mother was a victim; that despite her right to give up Kazia she had raised her still, making her a noble martyr in the eyes of the world. No one would ever know, and both Kazia and her whore of a mother were able to keep what dignity could be allowed to them. It was the greatest, and only, service that Kazia’s mother provided for her.

She considered silently. She wasn’t about to give the child her name; she didn’t want to leave the girl any way to find her when she was grown. She wanted nothing to do with her. Nothing. When Kazia left her care, she went into the care of the Gods. Kazia might as well have sorrow to watch over her. Kazia’s mother invoked the Goddess of Sorrow in a silent prayer. She hated the little urchin, who was losing her battle against turned away from the last time she would ever see the child. “Kazia SaNiobe.”

“SaNiobe?” The Tester looked at her closely. The allusion to Niobe, the Goddess of Sorrow, was painfully obvious. “You are sure?”

The woman shot him a glare, narrowing her eyes and letting him see her hatred for the child. “I am very sure.”

“The Goddess will not take this lightly.”

“I do not expect her to. She is Niobe’s child, not mine. Let it be said to the world what she is.” The townspeople, all of them still ignorant of the true nature of Kazia’s conception, agreed with her.

“She was not conceived in an act of love, was she?” the Tester asked the woman quietly, no one save the two of them able to hear it.

“She was not.”

The Tester realized, as he looked at her, exactly what the woman had been. He shook his head. “Go your way, then, she will never know. She has power, great power. Whoever he was, he gave this child quite the gift.”

The woman snorted. “A gift indeed. How much is the child worth?”

“You can have five for her.”

“Five what? If you mean only five Crescents, she is worth more than that.”

“I meant five Moons, I’m sure you won’t dispute that.”

The woman’s eyes widened, “No smart woman would.”

The Tester gave the woman her money, knowing that the woman, still young, would return to what she had been before. He looked at her child, trying to recognize the features in the girl. “Who was her father?” he asked quietly, once again so that only the woman could hear. “I recognize the girl’s features some small bit.”

Once again, the woman’s eyes narrowed, and she quickly masked her surprise with her expressionless mask. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend, I’ll tell no one. I simply wish to know.”

She hesitated. Tester’s were forbidden to lie when it came to the children. “He was a mage, a very powerful mage. He was tall, very tall. He had dark eyes, dark looks. He was handsome, but he had countless scars across his back and chest.”

The Tester nodded, understanding who she meant. “You did not know his name?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t important.”

“Do you wish to know? You might be surprised who he is.”

“You know who he is?”

“He is one of the Chief Mages in this land. He goes by Aramus Sarad.”

“Aramus Sarad?” her voice barely met his ears, the words that left her mouth scarcely able to be considered a whisper.

The Tester nodded.

Aramus Sarad. He was powerful: the third most important man in the land, the second most important mage in the land. Everyone in the land had heard of Aramus Sarad. He was one of the Emperor’s chief councilors, and he traveled around the land often, seeking to enforce the law, running errands, examining the lives most people lead as he could. He had come to power not long after Kazia’s conception, just having reached twenty years of age. His skill with both physical and magical weapons was renowned. It gave him another edge when he traveled the length and breadth of the country, allowing him to travel alone, allowing him to meet closely with the people. He was famous for his lack of kindness towards people, but also for his strict code of decorum and courteousness that he extended to all. The Aramus Sarad that Kazia’s mother knew hadn’t shown her any courtesy, but she had never expected it. She pictured the man’s face once more, trying to put some emotion into it, but failing. He had showed no emotion as he gazed down at the woman beneath him, trying desperately to please him and not knowing how. He had paid her well enough, and she had tried to force the man from her mind, more so as she realized that he had gotten her with child.

“Thank you,” she forced the words out, refusing to look at the child of Sarad.

“Do you have any objections to us informing him?”

The woman nodded dumbly, “If he wishes to know. I do not wish to be found.”

“As you wish. Thank you. May the Light guard your path.”

“And yours also.”

She left, and Kazia watched her mother leave. Her last sight of her mother was of her back as she walked away, no trace of regret affecting her pace. Nothing to make her look back to see Kazia finally begin to cry.

Kazia spent the remainder of the day with the other children who had Tested positive. Her tears dried quickly as she realized that nothing would come of them. The other children sat in various states of shock, some sobbing horrifically, causing the woman that watched over them to feel her heart slowly rip apart with each trickling tear that tracked down every tiny cheek. Kazia was the only child who managed to keep herself from screaming or crying. She realized that her mommy did not want her, and that she was going to where she was wanted.

The next morning arrived, the sun casting its rays onto a small handful of the area’s young, having cried themselves into exhausted sleeps. The Tester’s went through the children, slowly waking all of them, startling some of them to tears once more. The elder Tester watched his journeyman try to calm them, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. He reached into deep pockets of his robe, finding the small stone inscribed with the rune of Speech carved into its surface. He raised it a few inches from his mouth, cupping it in his open palm.

“Hadrian?”

Clear as though the man to whom he spoke was right next to him, a voice replied from thin air, “Got a fresh batch?”

“Yes. I have seven heading your way. Are you ready to take them?”

“Ready as you are, Sir. Seven, you said?”

“Aye.”

“Alright, send them in the next five minutes.”

“Thank you, Hadrian,” the Tester closed his palm around the stone, settling it back into his robes. “Children,” he raised his voice, and they all quieted enough so that they could hear their elder, as they had all been taught.

“You are going to be sent to a school now. You will learn to use the gifts that have been given to you. You will study your gifts, how to use them. You will study language, mathematics, history, philosophy. You’ll be taught to read and write in the finest hands. Please, all of, stand up, and step together, into a group,” he waited while they complied with the best of their ability. Most of them didn’t understand what mathematics or philosophy was, and didn’t much care for language or history, but they listened to him nevertheless. “Good, now grasp someone’s hand. Everyone holding someone’s hand?” All the children nodded affirmatively, and he glanced to his journeyman. The journeyman set his hand on Kazia’s shoulder, who looked up at the kind, still youthful face. The journeyman smiled encouragingly, and she looked back to the elder Tester, who had set his hand on another child’s shoulder.

The old Tester reached into his pocket once more and removed another stone, inscribed with the rune that meant Travel. He spoke into it as it rested in his palm a few inches from his face once more. “School,” was all he spoke.

The immediate effect was one that none of the children was aware of. After a few moments pause, they began to feel it. As though the ground began to rush away from them, they felt as though the ground was being torn out from under them as it rushed away. Despite the constant sensation of falling, none of the poorly balanced children fell, but arrived, all still on their feet, at the school. Wearing similar robes to those of the Tester, Hadrian was waiting for them. He looked at the seventeen children, smiling at the young, puzzled faces, all of which no longer carried fresh tears.

“Welcome,” he said simply. “This is your home. It is called The School of Knowledge. It is commonly known as the University, however; we don’t want you getting confused. You will be given a period of two months to adjust. There are many others who have already come here this last week to be taught to use their magic and their minds, as you will be. I’ll lead you all to your rooms where you can meet the others who have already come. Other’s will be arriving, later, over the course of the next few weeks, so expect more to come.

“All of you, step into a line,” he ordered, and the quickly obeyed. The young ones from the cities were noticeably less obedient and were often two or three times this number. Seven was a decent amount from a small collection of towns. “Now follow me, don’t stray,” he told them, beginning to turn away.

“Oh, Hadrian, tarry a moment, if you will. Is Aramus Sarad about?”

Hadrian gave pause before answering; he didn’t pause because he didn’t know, but because he wondered why a Tester would need to speak with Aramus Sarad. “He is about, but I believe he expects to leave later today. Do you need to speak with him?”

“I do, but it is a small matter.”

“He should be in the Library or his private study.”

“Thank you.”

“Come along, children,” Hadrian turned away, and began to walk. The seven children followed, silent and obedient. They’d had good parents, it looked like. They stopped first at the young boy’s dorm, and were handed off to their Master, who would see them all comfortably situated. The remaining three, Kazia among them, were then delivered to the dorm for the five-year-old girls.