The Rossem Project

Graduation Field - Part 1

The problem of the skydeath was forgotten for the moment, though, when the first day of autumn came at last. The day when the new crop of youngsters left the preparatory class and entered their first year as proper Lexandrian apprentices.

For several days beforehand the fifth year students had been taking their final tests which would decide whether they graduated as fully fledged wizards or had to remain for another year, and the day before, the last day of summer, had seen the resplendent graduation ceremony held on graduation field, midway between the teaching and the research buildings. The same setting was used on the following day for the enrolment ceremony, and all the chairs and fittings were left out ready for it, protected from the elements by a dome of force that kept it dry and comfortable inside no matter what it was doing outside.

Thomas and Lirenna had already taken their places on the fourth row, near the left hand side of the seating area, and in front of them the three hundred and five youngsters were fidgeting nervously as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

Most of the youngsters were human, and most of the humans were male, as was usual. Some time ago the University had made an attempt to broaden its catchment profile, to attract more women and nonhumans, but with only limited success. At least ninety percent of all the wizards in the world were human males, and it seemed likely that it would remain that way for the foreseeable future. It meant that Derrin, sitting with the other younger children in a separate group to one side, was easily the smallest person present. Even the smallest of the nomes were an inch or two taller than him, so that it was always easy for his parents to pick him out from a crowd, even if his shoulder length, silky dark hair hadn't made him so distinctive.

The boy was chatting animatedly with the boy on his right, a fourteen year old easily twice his size, and it was clear to see that the two were fast friends, the shared experience of University life overcoming the barrier of their widely differing ages and cultural backgrounds. The taller boy was dressed in the robes and turban of a Haldornian, a people who venerated and respected the elderly and who had an impressive history of cultural and artistic achievements. They were both watching the slightly older children sitting, trembling with excited anticipation, in the front rows, both of them looking forward to the day when they would be sitting there, waiting to be enrolled as apprentice wizards.

Twelve senior wizards appeared from the teaching buildings, striding along the path towards the graduation field with all the regal dignity of Kings, and all conversation stopped as they approached. Reaching the area set out for the ceremony, they climbed the low flight of steps onto the long wooden platform and took their places in front of their ornate, thronelike chairs. There they stood, gazing imperiously out over the crowd as if trying to impress upon the spectators the importance of the occasion they were about to witness.

Six of them were the heads of the six schools of magic; the schools of conjuration, alteration, divination, illusion, enchantment and, a little apart from the others and his face shadowed by a low, dark hood, necromancy. Another five were the five heads of years, and the twelfth was the Director himself, for once not holding the Staff of Lexandros which currently resided in a magic proof casket in the Chamber of the Ancestors; the room in which all the University's most important symbols and icons were kept when they weren't being used. Instead, the Director was carrying the Staff of Wisdom, a larger and much more impressive looking staff that had only one function and was used on only one day of the year. This was the day, and Thomas remembered well the day when it had been used on him.

The Master of Ceremonies took his place behind and to one side of the Director as if he were an assassin about to commit a murder. Lirenna nudged Thomas in the side and nodded her head at him. "When he whispers prompts into the Director's ear, is he doing it because it's tradition, or does the Director really forget his lines sometimes?"

"If he does, then he always forgets the exact same lines every time. I wonder if they sometimes feel silly, following all these nonsensical, archaic traditions?"

"The shae folk could tell you a thing or two about the power of tradition. How long does it take, do you think, for him to learn every word and every gesture of every ceremony?"

"Not long, probably. He is a wizard, after all, even if he almost never has to cast any actual spells. He's a proctor, by the way. Did you know that? All Masters of Ceremonies are proctors. The current master and both his potential successors. That means that the Head Proctor's his boss. I wonder what would happen if the Head Proctor made a mistake in a ceremony? Would the Master be able to censure him for it?"

"I expect there's a ceremony somewhere to cover the situation," said Lirenna with a smile. "The Master has to point out the Head Proctor's mistake three times and the Head Proctor tells him to get lost three times. Then the Master and his two apprentices do a dance while waving silk handkerchiefs in the air whereupon the Head Proctor falls to his knees and craves his pardon three times while crossing his fingers behind his back."

Thomas and Lirenna both laughed at the image. "I should turn you in to the Proctors for mocking the University's ceremonies," said Thomas.

"Is that an actual crime? Mocking the ceremonies?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. You know how seriously they take them. They're a major component of the University's continuity, its sense of identity. The ceremonies aren't written down anywhere, you know? It's against tradition." He chuckled at the irony. "It means that, if some disaster were to strike down the Master, his Deputy and both his apprentices, all those traditions would be lost forever."

"Some people might think that would be no bad thing."

"Maybe. But Quellen, our historian, was always saying that the loss of historical culture and tradition is always followed by violent upheaval and change. He said that a steady, stable environment is vital for the training of wizards, and that's why the continuity of the line of Masters of Ceremonies is the one institution they take no chances with whatsoever."

"Maybe," conceded Lirenna, "but Quellen also said that people with the thickest hair make the best leaders. He clearly never heard of King Tornidol." Thomas chuckled his agreement.

The ceremony began with the six head of schools and the five head of years standing In front of their thrones, staring straight ahead. The Director then walked the length of the stage, pausing in front of each of the senior wizards in turn to speak a single word to him, a word that held a world of meaning to those who'd made a study of the University's history. He said "Caution" to the head of the school of conjuration, for instance, and "Vigilance" to the head of the school of illusionism. To the head of Enchantment he said "Prudence", to the head of alteration he said "Restraint" and to the head of divination he said "Wisdom". Finally, standing in front of the tall, intimidating head of the school of necromancy, he said the word "Humility". The necromancer, like all the others before him, inclined his head in a slight bow of acquiescence before the Director, who nodded back in satisfaction.

The Director raised the Staff of Wisdom over his head and commanded them to sit. The head of the first year, a white bearded man with a livid purple scar above his left eye, remained standing, though, until the Director repeated the command to sit, a part of the ceremony that was said to date all the way back to the days of Lexandros himself.

The Director then returned to his own throne and the podium that stood just in front of it, and the Master of Ceremonies positioned himself behind him, ready to whisper the prompts into his ear at the right moments. The Director then placed the staff against the podium to free his hands before picking up the first sheet. He squinted his eyes at it and beginning to read.