To the surprise of both Elesya and me, the next day Thanida served us a breakfast that was not only edible, but actually tasty. She brought a plate with pieces of fried fish covered in a thin, crispy flour crust. The fish appeared to be, by all accounts, a tilapia. Thanida had decorated it with thin slices of lemon and fresh parsley leaves. The aroma of the fish blended appetizingly with the scent of pepper, garlic, and coriander. Besides the fish, Thanida had brought us bread, a few pieces of cheese, salt, and a drink made from pressed pomegranates.

  We ate together, the three of us, savoring the delicious food. Despite having little experience in the culinary arts, Thanida had done honorably well for her first attempt.

  While chewing a piece of fish, I considered telling Thanida that she was far better at cooking than at fighting — but such words would have certainly offended her. I settled for noting that she had carried out her task well, and that a true warrior needed to know how to do a bit of everything.

  Without pausing my meal, I began to discuss with Elesya the issue weighing most heavily on me: money.

  “Elesya,” I said, “in the end the magic tournament turned out to be rather unprofitable for me. Out of the 7,000 sesterces I received, I had to pay 6,000 in fees and I only have 1,000 left. That’s not nearly enough to pay next year’s tuition. Of course, I don’t want you to think your idea about entering the tournament wasn’t excellent,” I added quickly. “Thanks to you, I avoided slavery and made it to the second year. But now I don’t know how I’m going to manage.”

  Elesya smiled lightly and continued eating without saying a word. There was no trace of worry on her face. Naturally — her own 7,000 sesterces were untouched, since her parents paid her tuition.

  “Are there any scholarships at this magic academy?” I asked, trying to glimpse a possibility.

  “Yes, there are,” Elesya replied, “but I wouldn’t count on them. They’re awarded very rarely, and they only cover part of the fee.”

  “Then I’m thinking about offering magical services to people when they need them.”

  “No, you can’t,” Elesya contradicted me. “It wouldn’t be legal.”

  “But you’ve seen I’m not bad at magic.”

  “Yes, but no one will hire you without a license. You’re not allowed to practice magic unless you pass an exam and pay 2,000 dinars for a practitioner’s license issued by the Royal Committee of Magic. The license expires every three years and has to be renewed. And you must pay a tax — one fifth of every contract you get.”

  “And how do you know all this?”

  “My parents are mages, remember? Believe me, they’re fully qualified and very experienced — and even so, it’s hard for them to afford my tuition.”

  “But couldn’t I do some paid magical practice somewhere? There must be mages willing to take on apprentices.”

  “No one will take you without recommendations, Sam. Considering your reputation and how the last arena fight went, it’s almost certain no one will recommend you.”

  “Why? Elesya, you know perfectly well I can do almost any spell. I don’t mean to brag, but I think I could perform most known spells just as well as the greatest mages in the kingdom. Shouldn’t that be enough for someone to want to work with me?”

  “Skill with spells isn’t as important as you think,” she replied. “A mediocre mage with good recommendations gets further than a skilled mage who’s ignored by everyone. Why do you think young mages enroll in the Academy? Not for the quality of the courses, as you might believe at first glance, but for the connections they make. I’m sorry, Sam, if that disappoints you, but in our world, connections are the most important factor in a mage’s career — not talent.”

  Not only in your world, I told myself with a hint of cynicism. I knew very well things worked the same way in my own.

  “Then is there any other way for a student without means — like me — to earn honest money?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Elesya smiled. “All magic academy students come from families that can afford the tuition. Maybe not necessarily wealthy families, but at least well-off. The rest are slaves or common folk with few resources.”

  Her ease in crushing every hope of mine was starting to annoy me. Angry, I slammed my fist on the table, making the dishes rattle.

  “No! There has to be something I can do to get the money.”

  With a graceful gesture, Elesya cut herself another piece of fish. She paused briefly to chew, then spoke again:

  “Sam,” she began, “I’m not really in a position to give you advice, but…”

  “Go on. I don’t mind suggestions or criticism.”

  “Why don’t you try getting along better with the other students at the Academy? Right now they fear you and hate you, but you could turn the situation to your advantage. You might even profit from them.”

  “Profit? How so?”

  The idea that I could benefit in any way from the students seemed unrealistic — almost absurd.

  “Sam,” Elesya continued, “even if you didn’t intend it, you’re now known as the most powerful mage in the Academy. You could befriend the other students and become their adviser. You could help them with tips, with magic lessons, or even with small compliments if you can’t do more. And they’ll reward you with the money you need for your tuition. Remember that you taught me flight magic a few months ago.”

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  “No, Elesya. Your suggestion has merit, but I don’t think I can be friends with people who treated me with such hostility for so long, even though I never wronged them.”

  “You don’t have to be their real friend. You just have to seem like it. Think about it — you’re in a special situation that requires compromises if you want to survive. You may have to act like in that fable with the fox and the crows.”

  I paused, trying to recall the story from school.

  “The fox and the crows?” I asked puzzled. “Wasn’t it just one crow?”

  Elesya smiled sweetly as she sipped her pomegranate juice.

  “Sam, I can see you’ve forgotten the story, so let me remind you briefly. While walking through a forest, a hungry fox wondered how she might find food. She hadn’t found any prey all day, and the pangs of hunger were growing sharper. She was about to lose hope when she saw a crow perched on a branch with a piece of meat in its beak. After thinking for a moment, the fox approached the crow and asked him to sing a little. To convince him, she explained she was searching for young talents and could hold a small audition right there on the spot.

  The crow didn’t need much persuading: he began to sing in his croaking voice and dropped the piece from his beak…”

  “And the fox took advantage of the opportunity, grabbed the meat, and ran back into the forest. Right?” I interrupted impatiently, eager to put an end to the story.

  “Why would the fox do something so foolish?” Elesya laughed softly. “No, that’s not what happened. The fox returned the piece to the crow and praised him, saying he had an extraordinary voice and that she’d love to hear him sing on other evenings as well. She admitted she was hungry, but emphasized that his voice was so pleasant it made her forget her hunger. Moved, the crow insisted that she accept the piece of meat as a gift, in gratitude for her musical critique and encouragement.”

  The new twist of the story caught me a little off guard. Still, I was already getting used to the fact that in their world, many things were different — even the stories.

  “A clever fox,” I remarked, with a hint of admiration. “Can’t even be accused of stealing. Is that all?”

  “No,” Elesya replied. “The fox accepted the piece, but told the crow that he ought to bring other crows to sing as well, because without real competition it was hard for his true value to shine. In the evenings that followed, more and more crows arrived, each with a piece of meat. Over time, the fox became a critic and gave each of them a rating: if the meat was big and tasty, that crow was declared the most talented in the flock. If the piece was small, the fox told him that his musical talent was modest, but that he should persevere. The crows competed to bring the largest pieces of meat, eager to be noticed and stand out. In this way, the fox ended up being permanently fed by the entire flock of crows. Now do you understand my idea a bit better?”

  The story was a little different from the version I knew. Had Aesop published a newly revised edition of his fables in their world? Still, I realized it wasn’t the right moment to ponder literature.

  The strategy Elesya had suggested was probably very well suited to my situation. Even so, that didn’t mean I agreed to put it into practice. I didn’t like the idea of becoming a perpetual impostor, tricking the Academy’s students with elaborate advice and flattery just to squeeze money out of them. A non-mage teaching magic to real mages was already too much of a farce, even for me.

  Yet I found myself surprised by how pragmatic Elesya’s thinking was. At first glance she seemed like nothing more than a diligent, ambitious student, but beneath that surface lay far more than met the eye. Elesya had a sharp intelligence that allowed her to get what she wanted from others quickly and discreetly. She was like a little goldfish managing to stay unnoticed among sharks, hidden behind a veil of harmless innocence.

  “You know, Elesya,” I said, half joking, “sometimes you remind me of that fox in the story.”

  Instead of taking offense, Elesya smiled faintly — that characteristic smile of hers, hovering somewhere between slyness and naivety:

  “Please, Sam, don’t exaggerate. Maybe I just had a good mentor,” she said, giving me a meaningful look.

  I understood her hint immediately and fell silent, because she was partly right. I had relied on numerous tricks to win the arena fight, and I had involved Elesya in my schemes as well. But I had done all that simply out of a desire to survive in a hostile place — otherwise I would have ended up a slave.

  Thanida, who had been silent until then, suddenly joined our conversation:

  “Why don’t you try searching for lost magical artifacts? They offer handsome rewards for them, including royal prizes. If you’re as skilled a mage as you claim, maybe you’ll succeed where others failed.”

  “Thanida, I don’t think it’s wise to talk about that,” Elesya interrupted. “No one has recovered any magical artifact in the last ten years. And some people have lost their lives attempting foolish quests.”

  “Still, I want to know more,” I said. “I have nothing left to lose anyway. Go on, Thanida.”

  Thanida began explaining simply and concisely:

  “Every magic academy in the kingdom keeps a list of lost magical artifacts. If you want to join the search, you must sign up for the academy’s tournament. The participation fee is 500 sesterces per team. Each recovered artifact comes with a monetary reward, the amount depending on the importance of the item.”

  “When does the tournament take place? All year round?”

  “No,” Thanida replied. “Only during the summer vacation, in the months of Junius and Quintilis. At any other time of the year, it would interfere with classes.”

  I nodded, impatient. I still wasn’t fully used to their strange calendar.

  “Are the lists the same for every academy?”

  “No, they’re mostly different. The only exceptions are the artifacts with royal prizes offered for them. You’ll find those mentioned at the beginning of each list, though there aren’t more than ten of them. The rest are artifacts each academy has lost on its own.”

  As soon as we finished eating, I headed to the office of the chief scribe — the only place where I could obtain the official updated list of all the items the academy was searching for. The two girls came along with me.

  “May I consult the list of magical artifacts?” I asked the chief scribe.

  He eyed me sideways, full of distrust.

  “No, we’ll make a copy of the scroll for you upon request,” he answered irritably. “It costs ten sesterces.”

  Apparently, prices were just as high as I had suspected. I paid the ten silver coins and received a fairly long scroll. I unrolled it and began reading here and there:

  “The Scepter of Power”

  “The Torch of Truth”

  “The Serpent’s Book”

  “The Trumpet of War”

  “Aphrodite’s Brooch”

  “The Sword of Victory”

  “The Cup of Life”

  “The Carnelian Cube”

  The list continued, naming artifacts and giving a short description for each. I didn’t have the patience to read it all the way through. Some items had a small crown drawn beside them — a sign that recovering them came with a royal reward.

  “Do you have any idea where to start looking?” Elesya asked me.

  “Not yet, but I’ll go talk to Ribathrum. That sphinx is over three hundred years old, and I’m sure he’s heard plenty about magical artifacts by now. He might know some clue about at least one of them.”