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wearing the masked helmets and spiked shoulder plates of gladiators. Each carried a short sword and a round shield. And each man looked perfectly identical to the other. 
    They sprinted towards her, and there was no time for sensing spells, no time to think. Rachaelis threw out her hands and called forth silver astralfire. Silver flame lashed out in a cone, billowed across the sandy ground, and struck the charging gladiators. All but one vanished as the silver astralfire collapsed the illusion spells. The last gladiator, the real gladiator, charged at Rachaelis, sword drawn back to kill her with one mighty blow.
    Rachaelis swung her fist to meet him, blue astralfire seeping between her fingers.
    But the gladiator pivoted at the last moment, and lashed out with his shield instead of his sword. Rachaelis’s astralfire blasted away the top half of his shield, but the rest slammed into her torso, sent her stumbling back a half-dozen steps to land hard in the sand. 
    The gladiator sprang after her, sword plunging down.
    Rachaelis flung herself sideways, and the blade plunged through the space her neck had occupied a heartbeat before, burying itself in the sand. She rolled to one knee, hand coming up. The gladiator wrenched his blade free and lunged at her, sword stabbing for her heart.
    But Rachaelis was faster this time. Azure flame blasted from her palm, hammering into the gladiator’s face and chest. She heard him scream as the fire ripped away his helmet and sent him tumbling to the ground. Rachaelis scrambled to her feet, ready for another spell. 
    But it was over. The gladiator lay on the ground, smoke rising from the livid burns on his chest and jaw. The smell of burned flesh was horrible. Rachaelis felt her gorge rise. Good thing she had been too nervous to eat for the last few days. 
    She looked down at herself and flinched. Bruises covered her hip and side, and blood trickled from scrapes on her belly and breasts. 
    A silver flash, and Magister Arthain appeared on the other side of the wounded gladiator. 
    “Finish him,” said Arthain.
    Rachaelis shook her head. 
    “Finish him,” repeated Arthain. “He dared to lift his hand against an Initiate of the Conclave. Such impudence must be punished. Kill him, now.” 
    “No,” said Rachaelis. 
    Arthain’s lip curled in contempt. “Those who would strike at you must die, Initiate. You are too soft. Those who attack an Adept must perish.”
    Rachaelis glared at him. “This man did not attack me of his own will. You told him he would have his freedom if he struck me down. So it seems that you struck at me, and he was only your tool. Does that mean I should strike you down?”
    Arthain’s cold green eyes narrowed, and for a moment Rachaelis thought that he would attack her.
    “You have passed the fourth trial, Initiate,” said Arthain. “You need only defend yourself, not kill your attacker. Even if slaying your attacker is the path of wisdom.” He gestured, and the ornate stone archway appeared before the iron gates. “You may proceed to the next trial.”
    “What about him?” said Rachaelis.
    Arthain’s voice was iron. “Proceed, Initiate.”
    Rachaelis glared at him for a moment longer, then stalked through the archway. 
    When the astraljump ended, she stood in a narrow stone corridor, the walls meeting in an arch twenty feet over her head. Magister Arthain stood fifteen paces away, his cortana ready in his hand. 
    “The fifth trial of the Testing, Initiate,” said Arthain, gesturing with the cortana. “You have demonstrated mastery of astralfire.” His lip curled. “If barely. But an Adept must be able to defend himself, as well as to attack.” He lifted the cortana. “Defend yourself from steel. Now.”
    He raced at her, blood-colored robes billowing, cortana drawn back for a slash. But Rachaelis had seen the test coming this time. Even as he moved, she cast a spell. A shimmering halo of blue light appeared around her, a ward to guard